


Lemon Drops and Chocolate Chips

by lilibug



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Betty can bake, Bisexual Betty Cooper, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Flirty Jughead, Fluff, M/M, New Neighbors, Romance, Strangers to Friends, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-01-18 22:48:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12397845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilibug/pseuds/lilibug
Summary: There's nothing quite like biting into a warm, goey brownie. You have to be patient, after pulling it from the oven, so that you don't get burnt. But that first bite after it's cooled just enough, makes you want the whole pan.OrJughead moves in across the hall from Betty, and she finds herself falling for him a little bit more each day.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a92vm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a92vm/gifts).



> This was intially a prompt requested by @a92vm on Tumblr. Thanks babe!

As long as Betty had lived at her apartment building (going on 3 years now) the rental directly across the hall from hers had been empty. She had been a little concerned for a while because that meant she was all alone on the bottom floor of the brownstone. However, it was a pretty safe neighborhood so the worry had lessened after time.

Today when she arrived from home from work, there were boxes stacked up in the hallway and a Uhaul parked out front. She tried not to be nosey when she was gathering her mail, trying to catch a little glimpse of the tenant. However, it had been 10 minutes and the door that had been left slightly ajar stayed that way, but she could hear people inside. So she decided she would bake some cookies to bring them as a treat. Since moving was taxing.

Changing out her stiff work clothes (pencil skirt, pressed blouse, stockings and heels) she threw on a pair of jean overalls that she rolled up to her calves, and a plain green t-shirt underneath. Her hair went up into a pony tail and then she set to work in her kitchen.

Betty pondered over what kind of cookies to make. She was an enthusiastic baker outside of her editorial day job, so she generally had all kinds of baking supplies stocked. She took a look around and glanced at her recipe book. Perhaps a good old fashioned chocolate chip and a powdered lemon. She checked to make sure she had lemon extract – finding the bottle a little past halfway full, and decided that’s what she would make.

Turning her music app on her phone to play, she set it on the counter near her recipe book. She pressed shuffle, the words of the latest pop crazes filled her ear and brought a content smile to her face. Her fingers itched with the compulsion to bake and she let them.

*

It did take her about two hours before she was pulling the final batch of chocolate chip cookies from the oven. She had baked the lemon first so they could cool, as they were better at room temperature. They went into a plastic tupperware container, and seperated the flavors by pushing them to either side. She stuck the lid to the bottom and debated on bringing some milk with her, but ultimately decided not to.

Betty looked through the peep hole in her door, trying to see if anything was going on in the hallway. Empty. She stepped out and tucked her key into the little pocket of the overalls at the front of her chest. She held the container close to her and looked out the front window in the hallway to find the Uhaul gone. She hoped she hadn’t missed them.

Her hand raised to the dark cherry door, knuckles rapping against the wood. She heard some voices inside before someone pulled the door open. A beautiful black-haired someone.

“Oh, hi there,” the girl's voice was soft, but it had an edge to it. Her eyebrows were impeccably arched and she looked like she was dressed for a dinner party, not for moving. 

“Hi there, I’m Betty. I live just across the hall,” she jutted a thumb over her shoulder towards her door which was decorated with a pretty winter themed wreath, a blue and green stripped welcome mat resting at the entrance. “I just thought I would come introduce myself to the new neighbors, I bakes some cookies,” She said, thrusting out the container for the girl to peer into.

Her eyebrows rose but she smiled at Betty, hand reaching out and selecting a lemon cookie. “Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Betty. I'm Veronica Lodge. However, I’m just here helping. Jughead here is the one moving in," she said, and opened the door wider. She bit into her cookie as she leaned against the doorframe, her eyes lighting up at the first bite. 

Betty looked passed her and the sea of boxes to see two worn out guys. One was laying on the couch and the other right on the floor in the middle of the room. She blinked quizzically. 

“I don’t think carrying a box of pillows can constitute as "helping", Veronica," the one on the couch said, chiming in with a snort. He pulled himself up from the couch and walked towards them. Betty had little time to take him all in before he was standing right in front of her. He was tall, lean and broad shouldered. On his head was a grey knit beanie with little crown points, resting over top of his dark hair. He was very attractive. Her mouth went a little dry at the sight of him, and then his hand was reaching out for hers.

She fumbled with the container, trying to shake his hand. _God, why was she so awkward_? Veronica pulled the container from her arms and Betty felt relieved. Her hand slipping into his large one, the warmth from his fingers sending a pleasant tingle all the way up her arm. Her eyes lingered too long on his hands before she tore her gaze back up to his eyes. 

“Jughead Jones,” he offered, though Veronica had sort of introduced him already.

“Betty Cooper,” she replied, her lips curving into a smile as she gestured toward the cookies. Veronica was munching on a chocolate chip one now. “I baked these cookies for you. I just thought it might be a nice welcome to the building. I know how tiring moving can be, after all.”

He didn’t look at them right away, his blue eyes remained focused on her face in an intense way that had her palms a bit sweaty. She wiped them on the backs of her thighs when his gaze finally turned to the container.

“I'd never say no to food, but these do look really good," Jughead said as he pulled a chocolate chip one out and bit into it. He groaned, hand coming up to clutch his stomach. She thought for a minute some thing might be wrong but then he spoke. “That is the best cookie I’ve ever eaten, Betty. You're a literal goddess and I am but a mere mortal,” he waxed dramatically before he shoved the rest of it in his mouth, already reaching for another one. Her cheeks flamed in response and she sucked her lower lip between her teeth to work through her nerves. 

“Thanks.” Her voice had gone quiet and soft, bashful. She couldn’t help but feel proud and embarrassed at the same time.

The other guy that had been laying on the floor was now leaning over Jughead's shoulder, eyes landing on the cookies. His shock of red hair stood out among the other two, theirs dark and inky colored.

“Oh man, those look awesome,” he reached around Jughead, grabbing a lemon flavored cookie, biting into it immediately. He groaned and spoke around his mouthful, “Damn Betty, can you make anything else? I'm starving." He snuck another cookie out of the container with his other hand.

Veronica narrowed her eyes at the redhead one primly manicured hand still holding the container, the other poised on her hip. “That is incredibly rude, Archie.”

‘Archie’ looked sheepish, swallowing the second cookie he had just inhaled. Betty just laughed though, her eyes crinkling up as she smiled. “It's alright. I do. Cook other things, that is. I've been told that I'm skilled at baking and cooking.”

“Jughead, you have to have me over if Betty ever makes anything else for you,” Archie said, slapping a hand over Jughead's shoulder, who winced his response as he rubbed his arm after shooing Archie's hand away.

“Like hell, Archie. She's all mine." Betty couldn’t help the way her breath caught in her throat. Of course, he was just talking about the food. Right? They had just met. But she couldn’t ignore the fluttering of her stomach, a nervousness she hadn't felt in a while creeping back up on her.

After clearing her throat, she spoke, "Well, I’ll have you over for dinner sometime then Jughead. I rarely get the chance to cook for anyone but myself, so it would be nice. Just bring your appetite.” She was honestly happy to cook, loved doing it. Cooking for a party of one got old when she ended up with leftovers for days. Eating lasagna for four days in a row could get pretty tiring.

“Oh, I’ll definitely bring my appetite,” he said, gaze fixed back on her as he said the words. His gaze was burning her up, the flush extending from her cheeks down under the collar of her shirt. Was he flirting with her? Or was she imagining things?

"Right. Good. I'll just leave these here then.” Betty gestured to the cookies Veronica was holding. The other girl had an amused smile, her brown eyes looked calculating. 

“Thanks. For the cookies,” Jughead said, stepping forward out from Archie's hand. He was close enough to her that she could smell the faint scent of cigarette smoke and leather. It made her a little dizzy and her knees slightly weak. Betty smiled up at him, walking backwards toward her door with a little shake of her head.

“It's no problem, it was a pleasure.”

“I'll see you around then?” he questioned, leaning against the door frame, one arm high above his head as they spoke across the hallway, her back at her door.

“Yep, I’ll be right here. You know where to find me,” She pulled her key from her pocket. “Have fun unpacking.”

“Oh, I pretty sure it's going to take me weeks. Procrastination is a bitch. I might need a break from it. If you don't mind.” Jughead tilted his head at her, lips pulled into a smirk. Damn if it didn’t look good on him.

“Of course. Knock anytime. I could always whip us up something to eat,” Betty said, hoping that didn’t sound desperate as it felt. 

“I'll keep that in mind.”

“Have a good night, Jughead.”

“You too, Betty.”

Turning around and fiddling with the key in her lock, she felt his eyes still watching her, glued to her back. She silently prayed that her backside looked okay in the overalls thag he was getting an eyeful of. Finally, stumbling through the door, she closed it. Betty pressed her back against it as she sucked in a couple breaths of air.

This was so hard. She hadn’t felt this immediate attraction to someone in years. The last time she been in a relationship it was of a different variety, the kind that crashed and burned to the ground. 

She finally heard the click of his door shutting, and she peeled herself away from the door. She needed a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [@jane-hoppers](https://jane-hoppers.tumblr.com) on tumblr


	2. Chapter 2

Despite their interaction last week, bordering on flirty, Betty hadn’t seen Jughead since then. He still had her Tupperware container, so she supposed he would bring it back eventually. She really doubted those cookies had lasted the rest of the night with the way those three had been eating them before she even left. She was glad they enjoyed them though, could hear their groans and pleased ‘mmmm's when she thought about it, the smiles on their faces.

She really liked baking, cooking too. It gave her satisfaction to see others eating, enjoying the things she made. Betty liked it so much that in addition to working as a freelance editor (working from home but meeting with authors, publishing houses, bookstores, as well as editing manuscripts) she started a blog online called ‘Burnt Cooper' (it started as easy recipes for those burnt out on life – time, money, etc.) which has gained a pretty decent following and with the ads from the site she actually makes some money from it. She posts at least once daily if not more. Whether it’s about a dish she's made from a recipe she found, one that she created herself, or a review of a restaurant or food product from a store.

She's still saving up for a better camera than her phone. It takes decent enough pictures, but as her blog continues to grow, she’ll need something a little fancier. However a large portion of her income goes toward the student loan bills she's been paying (and will be, it feels like) forever. The price of a good education, even with the scholarships she had acquired, was steep. Her monthly payment was almost more than her rent. It didn’t afford very many luxuries. She didn’t have a car, but did have a bike she rode or generally walked places. She also used uber if needed, though it could get pricy.

Since, Jughead had moved in she had noticed a shiny black motorcycle parked near or in front of their building most evenings when she came back from running. It had to be his. He just seemed like the type, his scent creating the picture in her mind – him on the back, cigarette between his fingers, smoke clouding around him as he leaned forward, leather stretching across his back. A hand pushing through his hair as he looked over toward her, expression a mix of cold fearlessness, pupils wide with desire. He tilted his head toward her, cigarette perched between his lips, pulled up in a smirk.

Betty blinked, reality coming back to her. She was sitting on her loveseat, plate of leftover Chinese food teetering on her lap. She righted it, placing it on the coffee table, appetite gone. Leaning her head back, she stared up at the ceiling. Why did she always have a type?

Betty hadn’t even seen Jughead in passing. She gazed curiously at his door a few times. Found herself with her fist raised, poised to knock, but always lowered her hand at the last second. She didn’t want to be a bother. So instead, each time, she slipped back into her apartment.

The silence was deafening.

A loud knocking at her door started her, she jumped, eyes moving to the door and then back to the clock on the bookshelf by her tv. It was almost 10, on a Tuesday and the front door was key only. Her heart rate started to slow a little, the thoughts of someone coming to murder her dying down.

Betty jumped up from the couch and started toward the door, got halfway there before she froze. Her feet were cold on the hardwood and she chewed her lip. Should she throw something on really quick? She was only wearing a thin pair of mid-thigh shorts (that might have kittens on them) and a white v-neck shirt – the red lace of her bra fairly visible underneath. Another loud knock on her door brought her closer, hand reaching out and pulling it open. Her pajamas were fine.

“Betty, hi.”

She blinked.

Jughead was only holding a towel around his waist, one hand clutching it closed at his hips. His chest was bare, his skin and hair were wet. He leaning against the door frame, all bare skin, and arms, and hands, lips being chewed nervously. Her throat felt dry and scratchy, her fingers clutching the door under her grasp. Damn it, why did he have to be so attractive? She brought her eyes up to his, an eyebrow raised as she stood straighter, composing herself.

“My shower isn’t working. Or, well. It was working until I got in and started washing my hair,” He explained, pointing to where there seemed to be soap suds in the locks that were pushed back on his head, colored darker with the water.

Her eyes flicked back down to his, blue eyes looking at her pleadingly.

“You want to use my shower?” she questioned, mentally emphasizing the whole sentence, because she really couldn’t deal with this being reality right now.

“Yeah, if you'll let me. I don’t know anyone else in the building. Plus you said ‘knock anytime’, the other day,” he started to try to run a hand through his hair, but pulled it back immediately, fingers soapy.

On instinct she wanted to scream ‘of course’, but obviously that would seem over eager. Thinking about Jughead naked in her shower, wet, possibly using her soap? Yeah, of course.

The time it took to picture him was enough that he must have thought she was leaning towards ‘no’ because he spoke again.

“Don’t make me beg.”

 _Maybe I want you to_.

_A flash of him kneeling before her, towel slipping down his waist as he pleaded with her. His fingers would disappear into the waistband of her shorts, tugging them down her thighs. “Favor for a favor...” His lips tickling her skin, as he kissed down her belly. Her fingers threading through his hair, pushing his head further down._

Betty shook her head, pushing the fantasy away. “Yes, sorry. I don’t think I’m cruel enough to let you stand around like this,” she offered, opening her door further and letting him step inside.

“Thank you, Betty. I really didn’t want to have to go upstairs and try someone up there,” He was looking around her apartment, eyes taking in the eclectic mix modern farmhouse, vintage, and pastel colors she had used in her furniture and décor. The soft click of the door closing behind her back reminding her that she was going to be all alone with him.

“Yeah, of course. Follow me,” she gestured as she walked towards the small passthrough to the right of her living room. The small room had a stacked washer and dryer and storage shelves. The door to her bedroom was open and she flicked the light on, trying not to think of the state of it.

“Pink your favorite color?” Jughead asked as he shuffled behind her, almost running into her where she stopped halfway to the bathroom. He stepped beside her, eyes sweeping over all the pink in her room. Her breath caught in her throat and her hands curled into fists, shaking slightly. She clenched her eyes shut tightly and counted to three, slowly.

“Betty?” he laid a hand on her shoulder, her eyes springing open. She gazed up as him, fingers releasing and stretching out the stiffness.

“No, not my favorite color,” she said simply, crossing the room quickly and pushing the bathroom door open. She glanced quickly at her sink counter to make sure there was nothing completely embarrassing sitting out. With an exhaled breath Betty pulled the flowered curtain back from her tub.

“So, I'm sure my shower is the same as yours. Just don’t go breaking mine now, okay?” she teased, smile on her face as he stepped up beside her, peering up at the shower head that was just a couple inches above his head height.

“Right. Can’t promise I won’t break something, but I do promise I'll try _not_ to,” his words light and playful as he leaned a hand against the door, swinging it a little under his hand. Betty rolled her eyes at him, backing out of the room and catching the door from him, tugging it closed after her.

“Take your time, Jughead. I already showered earlier, so plenty of hot water,” the door clicked shut and she stepped away, further into her room. She never heard the click of the lock on the knob.

She looked around her room, fingers smoothing the wrinkles in her pastel floral bedspread. After making her bed, she picked up a couple items if clothing she had tossed on the floor earlier in her haste to get undressed. She turned on her bedside lamp, flicking off the overhead light. The room bathed in a softer glow, the pinks reflecting the orange of her window curtains.

Betty ran a hand over the jewelry box on her dresser, pink. Fingers twirling a scarf she had curled around her full length mirror, pink. Her hamper, the shades of her lamps, the bedskirt, the blanket she had folded on her bedspread, the cozy reading chair she had tucked against the window – pink.

She sighed, hand resting on the closed lid of the jewelry box, the little treasures inside haunting her.

The sounds of the shower turning on making her think of Jughead, and him dropping his towel. She quickly left the room, heading to the kitchen. Grabbing her plate from the coffee table, she put her leftover Chinese away. She pulled out a box of brownie mix from her pantry and decided to whip it up real quick.

Betty had set the timer on the oven for 25 minutes and then set about cleaning up her dishes. She was wiping the kitchen counter down when she heard the water shut off from the bathroom. Her heart started to race a little again.

She buried herself, picking up around the living room. She changed the channel on the tv to The Golden Girls, one of her favorite shows. She had settled down on the couch with her feet tucked underneath her when Jughead stepped back into her living room. He looked much the same as before, skin slightly damp, hair wet, but his skin was flushed with heat from the water. He ran his hands through his hair like a comb, playing with the strands.

Betty realized she had only seen him with his beanie on before, and was curious what his hair looked like dry.

“Nice shower?”

“Immensely. It’s always nice when the water actually comes out. Bonus if it‘s hot,” he was striding over to the door, and she hopped up from the couch quickly.

“I'm making brownies, if you want some?” she offered, biting her lip, fingers playing with the drawstring of her shorts. His eyes lowered to her hands momentarily before shooting back up to her face. He licked his lips.

“Brownies sound great. But, Betty...” Jughead trailed off and her heart plummeted. “I gotta go put some clothes on first,” he chuckled, eyes glancing down at himself.

Her cheeks burned and she stumbled over her words. “I – shit, right. Duh. Sorry,” she sat back down on the couch and he smirked at her, slipping out her door but not closing it all the way.

She waited, poised on the edge of the couch. She kept her gaze on the tv, fingers tapping against her knees. When the timer on the oven went off Betty jumped. She held a hand over her heart, cursing silently. Why was she so twitchy?

She went to take the brownies out of the oven, putting her oven mitts on and sliding the brownies out. They were brown and golden, steam rising and filling the air with the chocolatey aroma. She placed the pan on top of the stove, closing the oven door. Mitts were stuffed back in their drawer and she was pulling out a couple bowls, spoons, and a tub of vanilla ice cream out of the freezer. Warm brownies and vanilla ice cream were the perfect combination.

She was setting the bowls up, 2 scoops of ice cream in each and threw the spoons in. She had her little notepad out, making notes about the batch of Betty Crocker's boxed brownie mix. Pulling out her phone she snapped a couple of pictures of them in the pan before slicing them into squares and placing them strategically on a teal cake plate. She snapped some more pictures.

“Those smell fucking amazing,” Jughead’s words blew into the shell of her ear and she could feel the press of his chest against her shoulder as he leant around her to get a deeper whiff. He groaned loudly, heading falling back. Betty stayed still, even as he pulled away to lean back against the counter on the other side of the pan. She looked over to him with a smile. She hadn’t heard him come back in, nor the click of the door, or his footsteps up to her. She steadied her breathing. He smelt like her soap – vanilla and honeysuckle, the scent of his leather and cigarettes muted underneath. 

He was at least wearing clothes now. Red and black plaid pajama pants, dark grey t-shirt, feet and head still bare. His hair was getting fluffy, air drying right before her eyes. He had set her Tupperware container she had given him with the cookies on the counter by the sink, though it did look like he had washed it already.

“Thank you,” she had put her phone back on the counter, depositing two brownies in each bowl beside the ice-cream. “Milk?” she had gone ahead and pulled two glasses down from an overhead cabinet, shaking the glass at him.

“Yes, please,” he brought the bowls to her little round kitchen table, black porcelain stark against the white lace table cloth. Betty poured milk into the glasses and sat them down on the table, folding herself into the wooden chair and tucking one knee up to her chest.

Jughead was already spooning a bite of both brownie and ice-cream into his mouth. He moaned around the spoon, pulling it out clean and pointing it at her. “Will you marry me?”

Betty laughed, hands clutching her chest. It faded into a giggle and she tilted her head at him. He was smirking around another bite. “It's literally just a boxed brownie mix, Jug. I'm sure you could make it the exact same,” she took a bit of her own, chewing the warm brownie, chocolate melting on her tongue and filling her belly with warmth.

He shook his head her though, eyes filled with mirth. “That's where you're wrong, Betty. I would have to have a baking pan, and eggs, and oil. And I would have to _want_ to make them.”

Rolling her eyes, Betty licked the bite of ice-cream from her spoon. Her eyes watching Jughead's fixed gaze on her lips. “It's really easy though.”

“It's really easy when I can come over here and just eat yours.”

She pointed her spoon at him. “You're pretty lucky your shower ‘broke’ then, huh?” he laughed at that, hand coming up and mussing through his hair, scratching a little.

“I _swear_ it’s broken, Betty,” they each took a drink of their milk, continuing to eat their late night desserts.

“So, what do you do Jughead?” she was curious, after all.

“Ah, I'm a photographer, actually,” He paused, chewing the rest of his food and sipping his milk again. “I do headshots, portraits, weddings, magazine shoots, anything really,” he was fingering a ring on his right middle finger. A dark metal band that looked raw, maybe homemade, with sharp points laying flat against his skin. She realized it was shaped like a crown, much like his beanie.

“That is really cool. Maybe you could give me advice on a camera to buy? I’m looking for one that’s not terribly expensive, but photographs well with mostly indoor light.”

He let out a ‘hmm’ fingers stroking his chin as he leaned back in his chair. “Maybe a Canon EOS 80D, not terribly expensive but has a lot of focusing points and a popup flash if you need it.”

Betty repeated the name, getting up to grab her little notebook. Sitting back down, she scribbled the name of the camera down to look up later.

“Thanks. I’m a freelance editor, but I also run a food blog that makes a little money. I'm just taking pictures with my phone right now,” she said sheepishly, spoon scraping against the bottom of her empty bowl.

Jughead looked interested though, hands tapping against the sides of his bowl. She stood back up and grabbed another brownie for him, which he took from her happily. “No, it sounds really cool. I mean, your blog. What’s the name?” he said around a bit of brownie.

“Really? It's called ‘Burnt Cooper’, on WordPress,” she felt nervous at the thought of him looking up her blog and reading her work, seeing her photo's, considering his profession.

“I'll look it up later,” he smiled at her, setting her fluttering heart at ease. Jughead had this easy quality about him, and she felt eerily comfortable around him. She smiled back, pulling her knees up to her chest, ankles crossed. Her arms hugged around her knees, fingers rubbing her cool skin.

“Cool, let me know what you think,” She was working on a post right now comparing boxed brownies, hence her choice for tonight. She chewed her lip for a moment.

“Oh, I'll be knocking on your door again. Trust me,” his eyes darkened and she felt a shiver run down her spine. His blue eyes running down the bare skin of her arms and legs, roaming over her chest, lingering on her lips, before he pulled up to lock his eyes with hers. “I am so fucking glad that Veronica is a pain in the ass to live with,” he sighed, sounding happy.

Betty rose an eyebrow at him. “I'm sorry?”

“I used to live with Archie. Veronica moved in with him and I forgot how infuriating she is to live with,” he groaned, head falling back as he sunk into the chair, hands crossing over his stomach. “I had to leave before I killed her.”

Betty laughed, hand covering her mouth. The girl who answered the door the other day seemed nice, and she would have liked to get to know her. It seemed like her and Jughead clashed though.

“Well, I'm also glad you moved in. It was getting lonely here, that apartment has been empty for over three years.”

“Maybe that's why the shower doesn’t work? They must have forgotten to check the apartment before renting it to me,” he said with a snort, sitting back up in the chair. His hair falling forward into his eyes, now almost totally dry. A couple of locks curling in front of his face. His hand pushed them back and she almost sighed.

“Oh, maybe?” she gave a shrug. She hadn't seen a soul enter or exit until the day Jughead moved in.

“Well, anyway. You don’t have to be lonely anymore, you have me Betts,” he winked at her, her heart thumped loudly in her chest. She loved her name coming from his lips, but _Betts_ sounded even better.

“Thanks, Jug.”

He looked down at the table, searching for something. He reached out and grabbed the pen she had used to write down the camera name. He scribbled some thing underneath that, laying the pen down on top of the writing. “My phone number,” he gestured, getting up from his chair. Betty also stood, heading over to the door behind him. “Feel free to text me anytime you need a taste tester.”

“Oh, so you only want to come over for food, huh?”

“Now, I didn’t say that was the _only_  thing I’d be coming over for,” he drew his gaze down to her chest, from his angle and the way he had stepped closer to her, crowding her against the door, he could see the red of her bra against pale skin. Could see the obvious flush spreading from her cheeks down, disappearing beneath the rest of her clothes. “I like you Betts, I wanna get to know you. All of you,” he hand tugged gently on the end of her blonde pony tail.

She gaped a little at him, at a loss for words. She wasn’t used to this. “I – thanks? I want to get to know you too, Jug,” she said sincerely.

He gave a little grin at that, pulling the door open and slipping out into the hallway. “Text me, I mean it. Not just about food, even though that _is_ the way to my heart,” he was opening his door now and they each stood leaning against their doorframes.

“Good to know,” she had kind of already suspected that. “Have a good night,” she said, glancing behind him to still see stacks of boxes hanging out in his living room.

His eyes didn’t stray from hers. “Goodnight, Betty,” he closed his door and that was the end of their conversation. With her back now against her own, she slid down to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. She buried her head in her arms, wondering if this was something worth pursuing. He was definitely interested in her. She was interested in him as well. It had just been so long since her heart was broken, she didn’t know if she could do it again.

She took a deep breath before standing up and finding her phone on the counter. She plugged in Jughead's number and texted him a smiley face. She debated adding that it was her, but she figured it would be obvious, they had just spoken.

Immediately he texted back, his own line of emoji's including a crown at the end. She smiled, adding that in beside his name in her contacts. Another text came in and she smiled at it.

**J: Sweet Dreams, Betty**

**B: You too!**

**J: Most definitely, 'cause I’ll be thinking of you.**

Betty bit her lip, climbing into her bed and snuggling into the sheets. She didn’t respond, just put her phone on her nightstand.

Maybe she could do this after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr! lilibug--xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to kingmaker (strix on tumblr) and diokomen (here and tumblr) for reading over this chapter for me! They were seriously awesome with advice and suggestions, as well as correcting my punctuation.

Saturday night was usually the day that Betty treated herself. To quote one of her favorite shows, “treat yo self.” It was something she didn’t have a problem doing. She didn’t have a lot of extra money for frivolous things, but it was usually something like a bottle of her favorite cherry wine and a bubble bath. Or maybe take out from a restaurant she really fancied, because she didn’t really have anyone to go out with. Occasionally, she would do some online shopping.

She was going to cook a meal for Jughead on Sunday, so today she was spending her night grocery shopping. Betty actually really loved going to the store, it must have went along with her love of cooking. Otherwise, she preferred online shopping for everything else.

Last week after she and Jughead exchanged phone numbers, they texted briefly the following days. Short, snippets of conversations. Jughead worked a varied schedule depending on the type of thing he was photographing. Whereas Betty was typically home after 5pm every day. They hadn’t really talked about much of importance; just about their days, weird things that happened to them, or Jughead’s woes of unpacking. Jughead was always asking Betty what she was cooking.

Most of the time she didn’t have such an eloquent response for him. She ate homemade, but most things were fairly simple. She did cook or bake for her blog at least once a day and he was always interested in that. One time, when she had told him she just bit into a crunchy peanut butter sandwich his response was a series of emoji’s that she had raised an eyebrow at. A shocked face, hands over mouth, a peanut and a slice of bread, a tongue, and raised hands.

Another text followed after, in which she almost choked on said peanut butter sandwich.

**J: stop talking dirty to me**

She couldn’t help the laughter that escaped her. If she had learned anything about Jughead so far it was that he loved food (literally any food) and also innuendos. She rolled her eyes, and sent him the corresponding emoji. He sent a winking face back at her.

He was cute, to be honest. He texted the exact same way as he spoke in person – smooth and confident. She wondered if he knew what he really sounded like, if it was a conscious effort or not.

So she had followed that up with a promise to make him something worth talking dirty over and it had kind of escalated from there. They were both free on Sunday from their obligations, so Betty was going to cook. Easy. Simple.

So why had Betty deliberated over what to make for three days? She was at the store now, list loaded up on her phone as she cruised the aisles. Her cart had already been loaded up with some fresh veggies. She was going to force them down Jughead’s throat, having been appalled at his lack of fruits and veggies intake. He claimed he “couldn’t make them taste good” to which she had scoffed.

She was going to do oven roasted veggies, pan seared steak, and a side salad with balsamic vinaigrette. Dessert was trickier. So far he had tasted several baked goods from her over the past two weeks. Starting with the cookies she had brought him, then the brownies. Over this past week she had dropped off some homemade sugar dusted donuts, raspberry macaroons, and half of a pecan bourbon pie. He had called her a goddess and moaned (causing her cheeks to heat every damn time) as he tried each item, intent on telling her just how much he loved it before she could leave.

Betty was browsing the baking aisle after selecting the package of steaks she wanted. Looking at her phone, she scrolled through the dessert tag on her blog to try and find something from someone else that sounded good. She was leaning on her cart, thumb scrolling the screen when she found it. A recipe on chai carrot pie, a play on pumpkin pie and carrot cake. She thought it sounded really good and would go well with the meal. Maybe some white chocolate matcha bark too. She’d save the lemon verbena buttermilk sherbet recipe for next time.

Next time? She was really getting ahead of herself.

Glancing at the ingredient list, Betty grabbed the things she needed that she didn’t have on hand. Sliced almonds, evaporated milk, white chocolate, dried cherries, and a pre-made pie crust (she wasn’t about to hand make that); and then doubled back to grab carrots, and pick up cream cheese and fresh milk.

She froze in front of the yogurt when she noticed a man in a dark denim jacket, his back to her. The embroidered snake on the back looking at her with piercing red eyes. He was looking at the cheeses, grocery basket in hand. Harmless, despite the prickly feeling at the base of her neck. She took a deep breath and focused on her task.

Not only was Betty shopping for tomorrow’s dinner, her fridge had some empty spaces. Being the type of person who loved snacking, she was filling her cart up with various snacks. She turned to the yogurt, the man still in the corner of her vision. She gazed over the shelves with discontent, the amount of Greek yogurt vastly outweighed everything else.

She didn’t really care for Greek yogurt, it just felt _dry_ in her mouth (why did everyone like it so much?) She was searching for a plain vanilla. She liked to mix it with almonds and granola, the perfect mix of crunchy and creamy.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” a deep voice to her left brought her attention up from the yogurt cups she was now juggling. It belonged to the man in the denim jacket. He had long brown hair, pierced nose, and startling green eyes. She side stepped closer to her cart, dropping the yogurts in and glancing over to where he was picking up a box of kids frozen yogurt tubes. Then, he was gone.

Betty breathed out a sigh in relief. He didn’t seem to recognize her, for which she was grateful. She supposed her hair being up in a messy bun and the paint-splattered hoodie she was wearing over yoga pants wasn’t really making her an attractive target. Not that she wanted to be a target. God, she needed to go home. The snake from that man’s Southside Serpents jacket was haunting her the whole way as she walked with her grocery bags down the block back to the apartment building.

She stopped briefly to check her mail and shove it into one of the bags clutched in her hand. She had set her groceries down by her door and had the key in the lock when Jughead's door opened behind her.  

“Betty.”

He looked dressed up, white colored shirt under a tight fitting black sweater. Black slacks and dress shoes, no beanie. His sleeves were rolled halfway up his arms and she tried desperately not to stare at them. Betty tilted her head at him, a hand tugging at the thigh of her yoga pants as she judged the vast difference in their appearances right now.

“Jughead.”

He gave her a little grin, he was pulling a hand through his hair and then stepping out into the hallway. “You look cozy,” he looked her over briefly, eyes lingering on her legs.

“Yeah, compared to you? I look like a bum,” she snorted, gesturing to his outfit. He looked pleased, faking dusting off his spotless shoulder.

“Well, trust me. I would rather go the bum route, but I think Veronica would straight up murder me,” he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning up against his door. “She’s dragging me to a fancy dinner on the Upper East side of town — the only good thing about this is the food. I hate socializing with her parents friends, but Archie and her dad need a bit of a buffer. Plus, I've been going since I was pretty young, so if I started dressing down now she'd definitely notice.”

Betty began questioning her dinner choices for tomorrow. How was her food going to compare to the fancy meal he was having tonight? She tried to brush off the feelings of inadequacy, as she hadn’t even made the meal yet.

“Sounds... fun,” she scrunched her nose up. The idea of a super fancy dinner party with a best friend’s girlfriend’s parent’s? Yeah, fun.

Jughead chuckled at her, eyes dipping down to her grocery bags. “You need some help?”

“Oh. I mean, not really. It’s just a few things for dinner tomorrow,” she shrugged a shoulder, toeing one of the bags with the end of her converse.

“Speaking of, what time do you want me?”

Her heart was fluttering. Why did everything he say have to sound so... sexual? Was it just her brain being completely weird?

“You should come over about six,” her voice was steady despite her sweaty palms about the situation.

“Should I bring anything?” he questioned, a hand rubbing over his jaw. She had to look away from his hands.

“No. Well, unless you really want to. A bottle of wine or beer? Or is that silly? I don’t even know if you drink.”

“I do. Drink. I’ll bring something that goes good with...” He trailed off, raising his eyebrows, looking down at her grocery bags at the same time.

“Steak,” that was all he was getting from her.

He gave a little nod to her, turning around and locking his door, keys going into the pocket of his pants. “I'll see you at six.”

“I'll be waiting,” she said with a small wave as he started to head down the short hall. He raised a hand back to her, and she watched him turn to head out the door. Her eyes wandered down to his backside, where she made a note that his pants were exceptionally tailored. Among other things.

Betty had put the groceries away and found a frozen meal in her freezer to heat up for dinner. Once she finished her spaghetti dinner, she decided to relax with a bubble bath and set up Netflix on her laptop to take in with her. She filled the bath with a mix of stress relieving salts and eucalyptus and peppermint essential oils. She loved letting the bathroom and water get hot and steamy, the oils working to relax her as they filled the air.

She watched two episodes of the newest season of _Stranger Things_ while she browsed her own blog. After almost two hours spent in the tub, her fingers and toes were turning pruny. Betty let the now chilly water drain, making sure to clean the tub of the slippery oils after she got out. Once she was in her shorts and tank top she slipped on a dark blue silk robe. She switched Netflix over to the TV in her bedroom and lay propped up against her headboard as she turned the next episode on. She glanced at her phone on her bedside table, checking the time. She was about to snuggle underneath the covers when she a thought made her bolt up in the bed and reach for her phone.

Betty had been replying to follower comments and questions on her blog while in the bath. She had just answered a question on allergies and substitutions to make to certain items. It seemed _everyone_ had a food allergy nowadays. Most people would say something about it to someone who was cooking dinner right? She chewed her lip, deciding to send a quick text to Jughead or else her anxiety would consume her through the night.

**B: you don’t have any food allergies do you?**

She glanced at the clock, realizing it was almost midnight and she wondered how late he liked to stay up, if she was bothering him. She supposed he might even still be at that fancy dinner party sipping cocktails or something.

**J: if I had any food allergies I would be a sad, sad person**

Betty breathed a sigh of relief, weight leaving her shoulders. Another text came in, a picture attachment. She clicked on the little symbol, it was a picture of the wine aisle at the grocery store. It had some text scribbled across it, like he wrote it with his finger in the camera app: _Help me?_

She clicked on the picture, zooming in to see what he was standing in front of. She tapped her lip with a finger and started to think. Maybe she could also work this into her blog. She was definitely going to post about the carrot pie and white chocolate matcha bark she was making, but she supposed she would do the whole dinner including wine pairings. She texted him a couple of choices, including malbec, cabernet sauvignon, and pinot noir. When he texted back that there were a thousand brands and that he was never going to pick the right one, he sent another picture. He had moved on to the beer aisle.

 **J: I hope you don’t mind?**  

She shook her head, despite the fact he couldn’t see it. She liked wine, but her favorite was a cherry wine that was pretty expensive for him to be buying for their meal. She could always blog about beer _and_ wine choices.

**B: do they have any Raison D’Etre?**

Another picture, a selfie of him holding up the six-pack of the beer she had asked for. He was licking the side of the cardboard carton. She laughed, sending him a couple laughing emojis.  

**J: this is my favorite fucking beer**

Well, that explains it a little. Betty didn’t respond, not quite sure what to say. She also loved Raison, and it went great with steak. Maybe she should just say that? She sighed, leaning back against her headboard. A couple minutes went by and she was still unsure of herself.

Her phone dinged and she looked at it, Jughead’s text asking if she fell asleep on him. She responded with a ‘nope, not yet’ even though it was followed with a yawn, her hand covering her mouth. He sent her a sleepy emoji which started an emoji war between them. They traded texts back and forth, Jughead complaining about his uber driver’s taste in music.

When he arrived home he told her so, and she assumed that was the end of their conversation. She was about to tell him that she was going to bed when another text popped up.

**J: I can’t wait to see you tomorrow**

Her heart must have skipped a beat. She was also sure that her blood was pumping too fast, too loud in her ears.

**B: you just saw me earlier, Jug**

**J: that was for like 2 minutes**

**J: I’m looking forward to spending the whole evening with you**

Okay, why was he so sweet? She didn’t want to think about the last time she felt this excited to spend time with someone. Someone she was interested in. Jughead seemed different, genuine. She was also really looking forward to tomorrow, so she told him just that.

He sent her a sweet goodnight text, and she sent the same back. She drifted off to sleep after their conversation, still on top of her covers. The warmth of her feelings like a glass of milk making her sleepy.

When Betty woke the next day, she realized she had slept in far longer than she usually did. It was already almost noon, but she felt really well rested. She went about her apartment, doing some chores. Once she was finished doing some dusting and sweeping the hardwoods she decided to get started on the matcha chocolate bark. It was really easy to make – melted white chocolate, matcha powder, sliced almonds, and dried cherries. Once it was poured on the tray, she would let it cool a little before adding the flake salt on top. She padded to her closet while munching on a granola bar.

She browsed the clothes hanging up, fingers brushing the edges of a dark plum sleeve. Dark colors were still somewhat new to her, but she loved the color of this cashmere cardigan. She pulled it off the hanger and laid it out across her bed. Deciding she would wear a cream colored tank underneath, tucked into a pair of medium wash skinny jeans. Slipping the clothes on, she cuffed the bottom of the pants and looked down at her bare toes.

There was a perfect shade of purple to match this cardigan in her nail polish collection, so she dug it out. After her toes were painted with careful precision, she looked at herself in the mirror. Betty ran a hand through her hair, catching on some tangles. She fastened a button at the center of her chest to keep the cardigan closed and then turned around in the mirror to look at her backside. Not bad.

Running a curling wand through her hair briefly, she created some soft waves. Jughead had seen her without makeup several times, so she just decided to apply some mascara and leave it at that.

A thought struck her as she was appraising herself in the mirror. Was this a date?

Betty’s stomach clenched uncomfortably. What if he thought it was? What if he thought it wasn’t? She wasn’t sure which one she wanted to think about more. Just that the implications of this might be more than she had originally intended. She still hadn’t known Jughead for very long, _at all_. Yes, she was attracted to him, but she didn’t known anything about his character yet. And she had judged wrongly based on first impressions before.

Taking a deep breath, she loosened her shoulders. She needed to go with the flow, not be so uptight. And definitely not awkward.

She went back out to the kitchen, throwing a dark green apron on and started on the chai carrot pie. Peeling the carrots was the hardest part, but once they were boiled and mashed the kitchen was smelling really good – the cardamom, ginger, cinnamon, and nutmeg made it smell like Thanksgiving. After sticking the pie in the oven she started prepping the veggies for their meal. She fixed up brussel sprouts, red skin potatoes, squash, and broccolini. She coated them in a mixture of oil, rosemary, thyme and balsamic vinegar. Seasoning the steaks with just some cracked black pepper and salt, she got out her cast iron skillet. The salad was easy, she had bought a bag of mixed greens.

With the pie cooling on a trivet, she stuck the vegetables in the oven. Then pulled the matcha bark out of the freezer and used the end of a butter knife to crack it. Displaying it on a decorative platter, she started taking pictures of all the items. She made notes in her little book of things she wanted to say in her post. She was still scribbling things down when she heard the knock on her door.

Straightening up, Betty turned her eyes to the clock on the stove. It was 5:30, so Jughead was a little early, not that she minded. Her palms turned sweaty and she rubbed them on the front of her pants. She pulled her apron off and slipped her feet into a pair of grey house slippers and went to answer the door.

Jughead was looking incredibly attractive (she had yet to see otherwise, actually) in dark blue jeans and forest green cable knit sweater that was pushed up to his elbows. He was wearing black combat boots and his signature beanie, a charming smile on his face. He looked her up and down, eyes appraising her just as she had done to him.

He had a hand behind his back. He held a bag of flour tucked under his elbow and a six-pack dangling from his fingers. He stretched it out toward her and she took it from him, hand curling around the cardboard handle. “This is going to go so well, thank you, Jughead.”

He then shifted the flour from his elbow to his hand, hefting it up and giving her a grin. “I don’t really know how to cook, but flour is a cooking item right? I thought I’d try to help,”

She gave a little laugh. “Yes, you cook with flour. But I don’t need any for our meal, nor did you have to buy a new bag just for me.”

“Shit, maybe I read that article wrong... I could have sworn it said something about... Oh, right,” he pulled his other arm from his back, a bouquet of colorful lilies wrapped with a delicate silk ribbon. “Sorry, the word was _flowers_ , silly me,” he smirked, holding them out towards her.

Her heart was practically bursting. She felt this intense sunshine ray of happiness blinding her thoughts, and she wanted to throw her arms around his neck. Instead, she smiled, free hand touching the base of her throat gently.

“Well, you certainly know how to impress,” she collected the bouquet from him and motioned him inside so she could shut the door.

She stuck the six-pack in the fridge and searched under her sink for her jadeite vase. Jughead had set the flour down on the counter and looked over the food already out on the counter. She pulled the ribbon off the bouquet and tied it around the vase after sticking the flowers in.

“Damn, Betty. This looks incredible,” he leaned against the counter, close to her side. If she moved just a little she could press herself into his side. She realized she felt herself tipping that way and quickly turned, taking the bag of flour and sticking it a cabinet a little ways away.

“Thanks, I thought steak sounded really good. I’ve got vegetables you are actually going to like,” he threw her a look that threatened to make her giggle. “roasting in the oven, salad, and this really amazing pie. Plus some white chocolate matcha bark,” she held out the platter to Jughead and he picked a piece up.

Jughead bit into it and closed his eyes. He threw his head back, shoulders dropping. “Everything you make is _so good_ ,” he took another bite and Betty followed him, nibbling on her own piece as she set the platter down.

“Thanks, it’s really not very hard if you just follow directions though,” she shrugged, pulling a couple plates out of the cabinet above her and knives and forks from the drawer. She clicked the heat on under the skillet on the stove.

“Yeah, tell that to my sister. At least I know better than to even try,” he was still standing close to her side when he placed one hand on her lower back and reached around her, chest pressing against her back lightly as he grabbed another piece of the candy she had pushed to the side.

“So, is your sister older or younger? I have an older sister myself, Polly,” she offered, her palms getting sweaty again, even as he moved back away from her to lean his back against the counter to watch her work at the stove.

“Younger. Jellybean, or JB. She’s in school for fashion design at FIT.”  

Betty pondered what school he was talking about before it popped into her thoughts. Fashion Institute of Technology. That was a really good program.

“Jellybean?” Betty questioned, getting the steaks ready for the pan. She sliced a pat of butter from the stick in front of her, dropping it in the skillet with an immediate sizzle. She thought the name ‘Jughead’ was odd, but she had found it endearing.

“Yeah, our real names are way worse though, trust me,” he didn’t seem to want to elaborate and she just nodded, curious though. The thought that he might share something like that with her one day made her inexplicably happy.

“Can I ask how old you are?” They hadn’t really talked about age, but she had figured they had to be pretty close.

“Just turned 26 last month,” he had crossed his arms over his chest, and she couldn’t help but feel like it was a defensive move. Just like he didn’t say the actual date of his birth. She hmm’d at him, using a pair of tongs to place the steaks in the sizzling pan.

“I’m 25. I didn’t think you were much older than me,” she moved back to peek at the veggies in the oven. Jughead was staring at the steaks in the pan, lips parted. Betty rolled her eyes at him and boldly brought a finger up to push up on his chin to close his mouth. His eyes shot to her and she almost shivered at the dark look reflected in the blue.

“No drooling,” her voice was not as strong as she had intended and she turned back to the steaks, trying to ignore his intense gaze. Clearing her throat, she pulled the towel from the bar of the stove and set it on the counter. “So, how was the party last night?”

Jughead didn’t answer her right away. He dropped his arms away from his chest with a sigh, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. He seemed like he wanted to run his hand through his hair, but settled for tugging on the edge of his crown beanie.

“Better than usual. Archie is getting more comfortable with Veronica’s parents, so maybe I won’t even have to go soon,” he gave a shrug, even though he sounded a little far away. Betty supposed he actually did like going, despite his saying otherwise.

“Well that’s good then, but I’m sure they would still enjoy your company. I know I am,” her cheeks were burning and she turned back to the sizzling pan, poking the middle of the steak with the edge of the tongs. “How do you like your steak?” she had squeaked out, trying to change the subject.

His grin at her was infectious and she couldn’t help the goofy smile she was sporting. “Medium is good,” he looked down at the pan, and she nodded.

“Do you want to know a trick to checking how they’re done?” she offered, not sure what else to say at the moment. She turned the steaks over in the pan, the sizzle in the pan releasing a wonderful aroma that sat in her lungs and made her belly want to rumble.

“Sure, even though I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be cooking steak anytime soon.”

“You press your thumb to the tip of your middle finger,” she demonstrated with her left hand and motioned him to do the same. “and press on the ball of your palm with your other hand, that’s what the steak should feel like if you want it medium. Index finger is medium rare, ring finger is medium well, and pinky is well done,” she had moved her hands to Jughead’s, her fingers guiding his as she went through the motions of her words, pressing her fingers softly against his palm and letting him feel as well.

Betty looked up to him but he was watching her, not his hands. His fingers capturing her hand and holding it within his own as he pressed his thumb to her palm. She hoped he couldn’t feel how quick her heart was beating. She turned back to the steaks quickly, pulling her hand from him and picking the tongs back up to press against the steaks.

“See? They’re about medium rare right now, one more flip should do it. About 2 more minutes,” she was just filling the air with words now, speech a little rushed. She pulled the veggies out of the oven and placed them in a serving bowl. “Set the table?”

He took the veggies from her and picked up the silverware and the salad bowl in his other hand. “Of course, my lady,” he gave a little bow to her and moved to her small kitchen table which she had previously cleared of stacks of bills and various books.

Betty finished up the steaks and plated them, snapping a quick couple of pictures with her phone. When she was finished, she realized Jughead had been watching her. She blinked and parted her lips to ask ‘what?’ but he was already speaking.

His tone was low and gruff. “I don’t know what’s hotter: those steaks or the way your tongue pokes out when you’re working.”  

“Um, I am flattered, but did just compare me to a piece of meat, Jughead,” she was smiling at him though, his words making her more confident.

“Well, I told you that food is the way to my heart Betty,” he tsk’d playfully at her, taking the two plates from her and setting them on the table. She grabbed two beers out of the fridge and cracked them open.

They settled down for dinner, Betty giving Jughead a stern look when he only put one scoop of the veggies on his plate. He added another and she smiled. They ate and sipped their beers, Jughead’s compliments overflowing.

“So where did you go to university?” she decided to ask, curious. This was about getting to know each other, after all.

“I went to Columbia, did the photography BA with a focus on fine art and fashion,” he took a drink of his beer, and she couldn’t help but watch the way his adam’s apple bobbed with his swallow. “I kind of want to go back and get my MFA,  but I’m still not sure if it’ll really help or just be a money sink.”

“Oh, I get that. I’m still paying on my student loans, I couldn’t afford to go back even if I wanted to,” she paused, fingers running down the side of her bottle, collecting the condensation forming. “I did English lit, with a minor in creative writing at NYU,” she elaborated, his curious eyes watching her fingers.

“Nice. Well, not about the loans, that sucks,” he paused and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand again. Nervous habit? “I had a scholarship, so I got lucky.” No kidding. She couldn’t help feel jealous for a split second before realizing that he surely deserved it and must have worked really hard in high school.

“That’s great, Jug. I am, however, jealous that you don’t owe a third of your life to the government.  But beggars can’t be choosers,” Betty finished up the rest of her beer. She swirled the dregs around in the bottle and motioned with it to the fridge. “Want another?”

“Please,” Jughead pulled a long drink from his bottle before standing and collecting hers before she could get up. He went to her fridge and pulled it open, staring inside. He grabbed the bottles, but was still looking inside. “Damn, Betty. Your fridge is like heaven. I’m pretty sure all that’s in mine is beer, cheese, water, and lunchmeat.”

She shook her head at him, her fridge wasn’t _that_ stocked, but compared to his it sounded like it. “Typical bachelor,” she responded, taking a bottle from his outstretched hands, her fingers grazing lightly over his. She looked up at him, smiling coyly before taking a drink.

“Ah, yes. Bachelor life. So fun,” he rolled his eyes, settling down in his chair again.

They were finishing up their food by now and Betty gifted Jughead with the third of her steak she hadn’t been able to finish. Whether it was from the constant fluttering in her stomach or her claim that she was saving room for dessert, she wasn’t sure.

“So, what’s for dessert?” the way he said the words made her mouth go dry. His tone husky and sweet, eyes gazing at her like he wanted _her_ for dessert.

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr! lilibug--xx


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, to [kingmaker](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kingmaker/pseuds/kingmaker) ( [strix](https://strix.tumblr.com) ) for being my beta.

Betty swallowed a large gulp of beer from the bottle she had raised to her lips before Jughead spoke. His blue eyes staring at her in equal measures of curiosity and mischief — as if he knew what his words would invoke in her. He was being cheeky. 

“Well, now that you mention it,” she started, standing up and heading over to the kitchen counter. Betty took out some smaller dessert plates and spoons, and pulled the pie from where it had been sitting. She took the foil from the top and cut some slices with a serving knife. 

“I want you to tell me what you think is in this pie,” Betty was curious to his answer, wondering if his love of food could tell the difference between carrot and pumpkin. The spices might make it difficult as she supposed they would mask the taste pretty well. And cream cheese pretty much made _anything_ taste good. 

Once she had placed a good size piece on each plate, she brought them back to the table. Jughead had pushed their dinner plates to the side, stacked on top of each other. He was sitting casually, an arm thrown around the back of the chair. Betty admired the way the green cable knit stretched against his shoulders before sliding into her seat across from him. 

He looked down at the plate, eyes appraising the pie. It had a layer of sweetened cream cheese and then the bulk of the carrot mixture with thinly sliced almonds (that she bad roasted and sprinkled with salt) on top. Jughead rubbed his hand over his jaw, fingers brushing out nonexistent hairs on his chin. Betty wanted to giggle. 

“Well, it looks kinda like pumpkin pie. But, I’m guessing it’s not.” 

He picked up the spoon, both arms back on the table as he swirled the plate around, looking at it from multiple angles. Jughead bent down and inhaled deeply, belting out a deep groan of satisfaction. 

“It smells like Thanksgiving.” 

Betty nodded to him, lips quirking up in a grin. She pulled her own spoon through her slice and popped it in her mouth. The burst of flavors on her tongue was all spicy and sweet at the same time. “Yup.” 

Jughead was watching her for any reaction after she started eating. She rolled her eyes and gestured with her spoon at him. He finally took a bite, eyes fluttering as his lips closed around the spoon. She watched in trepidation, her free hand curling into a fist underneath the table. Betty’s fingernails were pinching into her skin of her palm. 

He opened his eyes wide as he started to chew. Letting out a low whistle, he looked down at the piece of pie and shook his head. 

“You could tell me there was dog shit in this pie and I would still eat it, Betty.” 

A giggle escaped her mouth at that, her fist relaxing as she clamped it over her lips, her chest bubbling up and down. 

“But, to be honest it tastes like pumpkin, but it’s creamier, sweeter. This cream cheese layer?” He paused and she nodded to his question. “Combination reminds me of carrot cake.” 

Betty hummed, taking another bite of the pie and nodding along with his words. It was like the best mix of both desserts. 

"So, carrot or pumpkin?” She asked after she swallowed. Jughead was looking at her warily, another bite on his spoon. 

“This feels like a trick question.” 

“Maybe it is?” Her eyebrows raised at him and she cut into the edge of her crust. 

She let Jughead finish eating before prompting him to decide. He licked his lips, her eyes following his tongue. Betty tilted her head and crossed her arms on the table, leaning forward. 

“So?” 

“What do I get if I guess correctly?” 

His question caught her off guard. She wasn’t really expecting this. To be fair though, she really hadn’t _expected any of this_. As in, Jughead being in her apartment at all. So she couldn't think, couldn’t breathe for a moment. It wasn’t like he was propositioning to _take_ something, he was giving her the power to choose what she wanted to give. It could be as simple as a dollar bill, another meal cooked... 

“A kiss.” 

Okay, where the hell had that come from? Betty couldn’t help the way her lips started to tremble. She had to bite her bottom one to get it to stop. She maintained eye contact though, which was frightening, but simultaneously enthralling. The excitement tickled the back of her neck, prompting a smile from her.   

Jughead was staring at her from across the table, the same look of mischief flashing across his features. 

“Okay,” he started, nodding his head. “Pumpkin.” 

Betty let out a shaky breath and as a lopsided grin grew on her face. She laid her hands flat on the table and shook her head at Jughead. She didn’t miss the slight droop of his shoulders or the twitch in his jaw. 

“It’s made with carrots.” 

He looked defeated, like he had lost his favorite game and was sulking in the corner. He huffed, scrunching up his nose. “It didn’t taste like carrots…” 

“Trick question, remember?” 

He rolled his eyes at her and glanced down at his plate. “Can I have another piece of this _carrot_ pie?” 

She nodded, hopping up from her seat and heading to the counter. Cutting him another piece, she pulled the pie plate over to the table and served it to him. Betty gathering up the dishes as he ate his second piece. She was fixing up a container of leftover vegetables and a ziplock bag of the matcha bark, in addition to the fact that she was going to make him take the rest of the pie home. Placing it all in the fridge, she wiped the counter down with a rag. 

“So,” Jughead started, sentence ending as he looked at her questioningly. He was wondering what came next. To be honest, so was she. 

“Do you like Netflix?” Were the words that came out of Betty’s mouth and she was thanking her lucky stars that it wasn’t anything else. She had this urge to blurt things out around Jughead for some reason. When she was usually very thoughtful and decisive about her actions and responses. 

“ _Of course_ I like Netflix,” he had stood now, depositing his empty plate into the sink. Betty started to fill it with hot water, squirting some dish soap in as she plugged the drain. Drying her hands on a towel she looked to Jughead. He was leaning his back against the counter, observing the array of magnets attached to the front of her fridge. 

“What kind of shows do you like?” Betty had reached out, wrapping her fingers around one of Jughead’s wrists. She was tugging him towards the adjoining living room and pushing him to sit on her couch. 

“I like thrillers, mysteries, dark stuff — horror. But, also older movies and shows. I'm a bit of a _True Crime_ buff. And I like the occasional rom-com, too. Paul Rudd is a funny guy,” Jughead was settling into the corner of the couch, his arms up and resting along the back and side. 

Betty eyed the space his arms had made, vaguely entertaining the thought that it was an invitation for her to sit right next to him. She dismissed it quickly, reaching for the remote on the coffee table and clicking the tv on. Then, settled on the couch a respectable distance away, so that his fingertips just barely brushed the middle of her shoulders. 

“Okay, I can get on board with a good psychological thriller. I probably like romance movies more though. Like Titanic? That is one of my favorites. I adore older films, especially black and white. I also really like foreign movies and shows, I don’t mind having to read subtitles.” 

With the Netflix menu open, she felt an odd feeling wash over her, as if someone was looking into her soul. Betty hadn’t realized that someone viewing her watchlist might make her feel so vulnerable. She tucked her legs up underneath her, which tilted her slightly in Jughead’s direction. 

“Yeah? I guess I haven’t dabbled much into foreign media. I’ve watched some older ones, classics like _Rules Of The Game_ and _M,_ though.” 

Betty had seen the first, but not the second title he mentioned. “What’s _M_?” she questioned, browsing the newly released titles section to see if anything caught either of their eyes. 

“It’s a German film, basically the first serial killer movie. It’s great, we should watch it sometime.” 

Betty couldn’t help the slow smile she flashed him, eyes crinkling up at the corners. She would love to. 

“Okay, but I doubt it’s on Netflix, so another time. Have you ever watched _Stranger Things?_ I’m a little obsessed with 80’s nostalgia.” 

Jughead had turned to look at her, his elbow propped up on the arm of the couch. His hand was at his mouth, fingers fiddling with his lower lip. He had an eyebrow raised at her, incredulous look on his face. 

“Of course, I’ve seen _Stranger Things_ . I, too, have an affinity for the 80’s subculture, especially 80’s futuristic subtypes. One of my favorite movies is _Blade Runner_.” 

Betty rolled her eyes at Jughead. “I suppose you like _Star Wars, Back to the Future, Mad Max, Alien_ — ” 

“Wait, wait, hold up. Are you saying you don’t?” 

Betty grinned at him, her own eyebrow raising towards him as she took in the disbelief in his face. Finally she laughed, her head shaking. 

“Jug, no. I _love_ those movies.” He seemed to relax at her words, sinking back into the couch with a sigh of relief. “I just didn’t realize we had such similar interests.” 

Betty was definitely a sucker for movies with a kickass female in the midst. The others were good too. 

He nodded at her, eyes going back to the tv. “I am pleasantly surprised, Betty Cooper. Let’s just say that.” 

“As am I, Jughead Jones.” 

They ended up starting _Stranger Things_ season 2 over again, as they were both at different spots and couldn’t decide which episode to start over. So the beginning it was. Betty was tapping her fingers against the couch with the music, the soundtrack of the show really resonated with her. 

They fawned over Eleven’s new hair and kept pointing out how they positioned Mike in frames due to the actor’s height compared to the rest of the kids. Betty had also made Jughead a cup of hot apple cider with a fresh cinnamon stick that he wouldn’t stop talking about for 30 minutes. 

They watched five episodes because they found it really hard to stop watching. Betty just kept letting the next one play until she realized it was after midnight and she had to get up early for work the next day. Jughead had told her “sleep is for the weak,” but begrudgingly got up from his spot on the couch. 

He stretched his arms high above his head and Betty’s eyes were instantly drawn to the strip of skin that revealed itself where his sweater rose up. She had to force herself to pull her eyes away from the familiar trail of hair that had been taunting her in her dreams since the _shower incident_. 

“I had a really awesome time tonight Betty,” his voice drifted over to her where she had found herself standing in front of the fridge, pulling out Jughead’s leftovers. 

“Yeah? I did, too. Turns out you are pretty cool to hang out with,” Betty teased, putting the containers into a grocery bag for his trek across the hall. 

“Gee thanks, I feel really validated now.” 

He was smiling though as they walked toward her door and Betty couldn’t help reciprocating. 

“Really though, we should hang out again,” her palms had turned sweaty, thinking about him possibly kissing her goodnight. She didn’t know if she could do it. Deciding to act first she gripped his shoulders in her hands and kissed his cheek sweetly. 

“Goodnight, Jughead. I’ll text you,” she smiled at him as sincerely as she could, despite the clench of her heart. 

Jughead nodded, his eyes darting to her lips before he gave her a small smirk, one that didn’t quite reach the far away expression in his eyes. “Goodnight, Betty.” 

She saw him out the door and watched him enter his apartment. He didn’t glance back. 

Betty shut her down and pressed her back against it, sliding down to sit with her knees pressed against her chest. She felt like she did something wrong. Her stomach was clenching uncomfortably and she had to press her forehead against her knees. Her heart wasn’t about to win out here, she had to be logical and think this through before making a rash decision that would be hard to take back later. 

*** 

Two days later, while she was sitting at Starbucks, waiting to meet with a client, Betty snapped a photo of her drink cup and sent it to Jughead. The barista had somehow managed to comically spell her name wrong and she thought it might give Jughead a laugh. 

**B: so apparently my name is Betsie now??**

She had also sent an emoji, the upside down smiley face. 

First and foremost, Betty really did want to be friends with Jughead. She was really making an effort to put herself out there with him, while still standing in her comfort zone. She was waiting to see if these feelings for him grew stronger or faded with getting to know him. 

So far, she was really regretting not kissing him the other night. 

His text came in, some laughing emoji’s and a ‘nice to meet you, Betsie’. 

Smiling at her phone, she chewed her lip, trying to think of something to say when her client arrived. Betty spent the rest of the morning with her phone burning a hole in her pocket. 

She didn’t text Jughead again until she got home that afternoon. She asked him if he would be offended if she watched the rest of the _Stranger Things_ episodes. 

He never answered her. 

She went to bed and lay there, staring up at the ceiling for what felt like hours. She was sure she had gone over every pro and con to admitting she liked Jughead. Betty was still comparing this to her previous relationship. There were a lot of similarities that scared her. 

First impressions, had absolutely placed Jughead in the same category as her ex: Motorcycle, leather jackets, cigarettes, smirking, and sardonic humor. There was uncanny similitude between the two. But there was more to Jughead, too; he was witty, smooth, confident, and caring. He had a steady job, friends, had gone to college on a scholarship that he had to of worked hard for. He seemed sound of mind. 

And the way Jughead looked at her… he made her heart beat faster, stomach flutter, cheeks flush, and her skin prickle with excitement. Betty felt terrible the other night, letting him leave her apartment with only a kiss to the cheek. 

Conversation was easy with him and despite feeling nervous in his presence, it was only because she was worried that she was going to do something to turn him away for good. 

She sighed, closing her eyes. 

Betty decided she could like him, that she would let herself explore these feelings for Jughead. Even though it was frightening to be going down this path; it was new and it was different, but that wasn’t a bad thing. She was the same though, and that was the thing that grounded her. No matter what happened in the past, she was still herself, still Betty Cooper. The same strong person who fought her way out of hell, lived, and _grew_ because of it. 

*** 

After a fitful night of sleep, Betty was thankful that she didn’t have a real work agenda for the day. She was going to work on editing today, so it was a work at home (and at your leisure) day. So, obviously a hot bath to start her day was in order. 

She had chosen a lavender bath bomb to plop in the water, paired with a bubblegum bubble bath concoction to make a soothing, sweet combination. With her hair piled up on her head and a clay mask spread across her face, Betty relaxed into the water, eyes closed. Her phone was resting on the ledge of the tub, her favorite playlist on shuffle that had a large number of _Halsey_ songs (Betty felt that the texture and tone of the artist matched her inner voice) to lull her to a relaxed state. 

It wasn’t surprising then, when she fell asleep. 

Betty woke sometime later, jolting suddenly when the dream that often haunted her ended the same way it always did. She braced her hands on the edges of the tub, the water had gone chilly and she was shivering. She looked to her phone to check the time but it wasn’t there, nor was her music playing anymore. 

Frown marring her face, which was now very tight from the face mask having hardened, she looked to the floor. It wasn’t there. A flash of panic went through her as she looked down to her bathwater that had turned murky from her additives. She groped around the bottom of the tub, finally finding her phone by the drain. 

“Shit, shit, shit.”  

The screen was black and pressing any amount of buttons did nothing at this point. 

Betty scrambled out of the tub, just wrapping her towel around her body and rushing to the kitchen. She pulled the back of the phone apart, the battery falling out in a puddle of water. She winced, the inside was completely wet. Drying everything with towel, she chewed on a fingernail.  Betty turned to her pantry and searched for her container of dry rice. She buried her phone and the parts in the whole container, hastily. She snapped the lid on and sat down on a chair with her head in her hands. 

Of this didn’t work, Betty really couldn’t afford a replacement phone, plus the fact that she was still paying for this one. She pulled her computer open and searched every possible way to save her phone. Rice seemed like the go to, but it depended on the phone and the amount of time submerged. Betty wasn’t sure how long it bad been in the tub. 

According to her google search, she should leave the phone in the rice for at least 24 hours. Easy enough. 

Or not, she mused, a couple hours later. She didn’t realize how often she relied on her phone for everything. Using her laptop was sometimes more of a hassle, but she had to make due. 

Her thoughts kept straying to Jughead, wondering if he ever answered her and if he had, that now _she_ wasn’t answering him. She groaned, head falling forward to the table with a hard _clunk_. Betty was having a hard time focusing on her work. She took a calming breath and decided to make herself a cup of coffee (she may or may have not added some Bailey’s to it). 

Managing to make it through the rest of the day with little fanfare, Betty laid in bed that night wide awake. She had to turn on the tv after a while, propping her head up on her folded arm. Betty scanned the channels for something that might put her to sleep. Eventually she landed on _Forensic Files_ , the only thing that seemed to be on that wasn’t an info-mercial. 

She wasn’t sure if it was the three cups of coffee she had drank, the worry over her phone (and money associated with it), or Jughead. 

Though, let’s be reasonable, it was all three. 

Not to mention she was worried about her blog schedule. She had a couple of posts queued, but she needed to either get a new phone or a new camera or _something_ if her phone was really dead. 

Her head bobbed up from where she had pressed her cheek flat against her pillow. 

"Jughead,” she whispered his name, an imaginary light bulb blinking above her head. He was a photographer, right? He had a camera. Would he let her use it or would he take some photos for her? 

The thought calmed her racing thoughts for a moment. Sure she still wouldn’t be able to make phone calls or texts until she had found a cheap replacement, but her blog would still be okay. The internet was a fickle thing, and you had to keep people engaged or they lost interest quickly. 

Betty was buzzing with anticipation and dare she say that she almost wanted her phone to still be out of commission when she dug it out of the rice in the morning. Yeah, that was silly. But it would be a legitimate reason to spend time with Jughead and she would be seeing more of his character if he agreed. 

She finally relaxed enough to try to go to sleep. 

Betty did not have a nightmare that night, but a dream like felt eerie and real at the same time. 

_It was a mid autumn day, the trees a brilliant mix of oranges and reds. She could feel the chill of the wind leaving goosebumps on her exposed arms. Betty was wearing a long, white dress, and her feet were bare as she walked the sidewalk, crispy leaves crunching under her feet._

_“Come on, Betty, lean against that railing there,” a voice said to her right. She turned and found herself watching Jughead fiddle with a camera. She blinked, voice lost in her throat. Her feet started to move towards the railing, and she leaned against it, elbows dangling over it as she pressed her back to the bars. Tilting her face to the sun, she heard the quick ‘snap, snap’ of the camera shutter again and again._

_“Sweet girl. Pretty girl,” Betty realized with a start, that the words were coming from Jughead. They sounded lilted and soft, not like the usual rough timber of his voice. She could see the blue of his eyes glittering in the light of the sun. “_ My _girl Friday.”_

_Her lips parted but no noise escaped. Betty clenched her hands into fists, nails carving into her palm as her heart hammered in her chest. When the camera fell back around his neck his eyes had turned a dark brown. Their haunting familiarity reaching deep as she struggled to anchor herself to ground that seemed to be spinning around her._

The dream started to slip away then, and she wanted to reach a hand out, as if to grasp the edges. 

She shook her head and fell back to the bed from where she had raised up to her elbows. Letting out a sigh, Betty stretched her limbs to each corner of the bed, grounding herself that she was alone. She must have broken into a sweat at some point, because she felt clammy and cold now. 

Laying there, she contemplated the idea of dreams and their fleeting moments, wondering, if perhaps they held more weight than a just an unconscious plane of thought. She had never been a big ‘dreams have deeper meaning’ enthusiast before, but this one had left her curious. 

Betty allowed herself to lay there for another hour, before getting up. She usually did ‘press’ for her clients on Fridays, so thankfully it was something she could do at home from her computer. 

Once she had set a schedule for the day, she pulled her phone from the container of rice. Betty had pressed the power button and got excited when the screen started to light up. Disappointment followed shortly when the screen was mixture of rainbow swirls with a green line running down the right side. The touch screen also was not responding, albeit very well anyway. 

She debated just chucking it in the trash, but ultimately decided not too. Thankfully her contacts, messages, and photos were all backed up to the Cloud. 

Later that afternoon, Betty had finished her work for the day early since she didn’t have her phone to distract her. Deciding she would go see Jughead to inquire about his services, she figured she should better bring a treat to make it worthwhile, and as something to photograph.   

She had planned to make these things next week, but moving her desserts up earlier wasn’t a problem if nagging at Jughead’s sweet tooth got her an in. 

It took her the rest of the afternoon, but she churned out some very pretty strawberry lemon shortbread bars, and some spiced apple cake bars with brown butter frosting. Her kitchen had been smelling heavenly all afternoon and it took everything she had to resist eating more than one of each bar for her taste test. 

As soon as her treats were bundled up in a decorative basket lined with parchment, Betty was ready. Once she raised her hand, knuckles rapping against Jughead’s door, there was no turning back. When he answered the door in a dark t-shirt and a pair of joggers, she felt better about her tunic top and leggings. A smile lit up her face and she held the basket out in front of her. 

“Jug, hi,” her words came out in a rush, realizing she had been holding her breath. Jughead raised an eyebrow inquiringly and Betty took it as her queue to continue. 

“I need a favor, so what better way to entice you than some treats?” she shook the basket at him and Jughead glanced down. He shook his head, but there was a playful smile on his lips. He had crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his beanie covered head. 

“Pray tell, what’s the favor? I might be tempted to oblige… for a _treat_ ,” his words sounded smoky and smooth, sending her thoughts to dark places. 

“Well, yesterday morning I sort of dropped my phone in the bath…” 

Jughead’s eyebrows rose dramatically. 

“And I buried it in some rice for a whole day, but it’s pretty much useless now. I just need some help taking photos for my blog until I can get a replacement.” 

“So, you have come to me, professional photographer who lives across the hall that has a weakness for you.” 

Betty could _feel_ a blush blooming on her chest and proceeding with its inevitable sweep upwards. She shifted her weight from one leg to another, clearing her throat, “I’m sorry?” 

“A weakness for food,” Jughead clarified, utterly unperturbed by his slip-up, and glanced down to the basket full of treats. In the low light of the hallway, his eyes were glinting impishly. She could have sworn… 

“Yes. So you’ll help me then? I’ve got raspberry lemon shortbread bars and —” 

"Yes.” 

“—and some spiced apple—” 

“Betty, I said — _yes._ ” 

“I, err... I wasn’t finished yet,” Betty blinked, her breath catching in her throat at the intensity of Jughead’s gaze. 

“I don’t need to be bribed to help you, Betty,” he clarified, tone unexpectedly gentle. “I would do it just because you asked.” 

“Oh… _oh_. Okay, thank you,” she was a little dumbfounded, as she felt Jughead had been a little hot and cold the past couple days. But maybe he had just been busy or she had been reading too much into things. 

“So you want to do it in my apartment?” 

And just like that, Betty felt like they were back to those first two interactions where her mind instantly went places it shouldn’t. 

With a blush blooming on her cheeks, she nodded and brushed past Jughead as he stepped aside to let her in. She was taking in the somber, dark colors of his decor when the door clicked shut behind them. He still wasn’t completely unpacked, not that she expected him to be. 

In his kitchen, which mirrored hers, Betty set the basket on his table and adjusted the bars laying on top. She grabbed one of apple spice ones and held it out for Jughead. 

“Thank you,” he took it from her, taking a bite. Betty watched with her lip drawn between her teeth, fingers fiddling with the parchment paper. 

“‘mm god, _Betty_ , ‘is is ‘mazing” Jughead spoke with his mouth full, but she found it oddly endearing. The way he immediately took a second bite, licking his upper lip of the icing that had landed there. 

“Oh, thank you.” 

Betty pulled a strawberry lemon shortbread out and set it on a napkin she pulled from a stack on the table. 

Jughead finished his treat and held his hand over his stomach with a sigh. 

“Okay?" 

“Oh, better than okay. Fantastic,” He rubbed his hands together then, watching as Betty pulled the plate of bars from the bottom. She separated the two flavors from each other, stacking the strawberry ones back in the basket for the photos. 

“Ready when you are,” she beamed up at Jughead, hands clasped in front of her. He had been watching her work, and nodded as he gestured towards his bedroom. 

“Sure, boss. Just gotta get my bag.” 

Betty felt a swell of excitement at the title, despite feeling very much out of control of the situation. She took a calming breath and looked around at his kitchen, finding it sparse. She knew what she was getting Jughead for Christmas now, some kitchen things. 

Maybe she would teach him how to use them? She attributed the warm fluttering in her belly to all the sugar, and definitely not the thoughts of herself in this kitchen with Jughead pressed up against her back, chin in her shoulder as she showed him how to cut noodles or to ice a cake… 

“Alright, how do you want me?” 

Fighting down the blush that was threatening to take over her entire body, Betty straightened her back and went into professional mode. 

“I want a wide angle shot of both desserts together, and then closer shots individually. Several, so that I can choose a few when I’m making my post layout.” 

“On it.” 

And they danced around each other then, for several minutes as Jughead took various photos of the desserts. He played with the lights in the kitchen and eventually brought out a tall stand in light which helped the fine details show up better. 

He had stood close to her, leaning in and showing her some of the shots and Betty nodded enthusiastically. His photos looked _so good_ , how was she ever going to be able to go back to hers? 

She would have to make it clear on her blog that this was a guest photographer. Of course, she would drop Jughead’s name as well. Might as well see if she could help drum him up some business, too. 

“Why don’t I take some photos of you?” he fiddled with a knob on the camera. “With the desserts,” he added, when she hadn’t spoken. 

Betty wasn’t sure. She hadn’t posted any photos of herself besides the one in her blog bio. But she longed to see herself captured in Jughead’s photography. Like in her dream… 

“Okay,” she found herself saying. Though she certainly wasn't dressed for it, at least the dark teal tunic top brought out the green of her eyes. 

“Why don’t you…” Jughead brought a hand up to the back of her head, fingering the ends of her ponytail. Her eyes widened when he tugged gently on the strands. 

“Oh? Okay,” Betty brought her hands up, her fingers brushing against his as he brought his own back to the camera hanging around his neck. It felt like electric fire shooting up her arm and it had her heart racing as she pulled her ponytail out and shook her head out a little. 

“I like it when you wear your hair down.” 

Jughead’s words were soft and sweet, and Betty wanted nothing more than to sling her arms around his shoulders and bury her face in his neck. Instead, she finished combing her fingers through her hair, gliding it back and away from her face. 

“How is this?” 

“ _Perfect_ ,” he said, then blinked owlishly and coughed into his fist. “I, err, I want you lean on the table, rest your elbows on it, by the basket.” 

Betty did as she was told, bending at the waist and trying not to feel self conscious with Jughead’s eyes on her. She popped her hip, bending one knee forward. 

“Yes, now tuck your chin to your shoulder a bit… yes, now bring your eyes up to me Betty.” 

Green eyes drug up Jughead’s legs, to where he was holding the camera in front of his face. She noticed he had taken his beanie off, his hair wild and free, much like hers. He was leaning back against the counter, pressing himself into it as he played with the angle of her in his lens. 

She heard the shutter click several times and she couldn’t help her smile that continued to grow as Jughead danced around the kitchen. 

“Okay, now plant your hands flat against the table, hunch your shoulders.” 

He continued snapping shots of her even as she was moving into the new position. 

“Yes, yes. Good...good.” 

Betty shook her head at him, biting her lip. Jughead groaned in response, the shutter clicking faster. 

“Yes, baby.” 

Her heart thudded in her chest at his words, cheeks turning pink. She didn’t think this was so much about the desserts anymore. 

“Hop up on the table, sit with the plate on your lap, legs crossed.” 

Betty complied, legs crossing over each other, dangling from the table. She placed the plate with the strawberry lemon bars on her lap and picked one up. Deciding to bite into it she heard Jughead’s hum of appreciation. 

She chewed slowly, then swiped her tongue over her lower lip to catch an invisible crumb. Pinching the bar between her middle finger and thumb, Betty licked the pad of her index finger. 

“Great, just like that.” 

A giggle escaped her throat and then she couldn’t stop, laugh bursting from her as she tossed her head back. The turn of events currently unfolding was _not_ a scenario she would have imagined when Betty had decided to come over to Jughead’s apartment. 

He was chuckling behind the camera, but the clicks didn’t stop. As her giggles wound down and smiled fondly at him, tossing the bar back onto the plate and setting it aside. She leaned forward on her hands, gripping the edge of the table. Her feet brushed the floor, tips of her converse sliding against the linoleum. Then, she was sliding forward, the table starting to tip a little. 

Jughead was suddenly in front of her, one arm wrapping around her waist and hauling her up against him, his other hand holding his camera out to the side. 

Betty let out a shuddered breath, her hands had clenched onto the sides of Jughead’s shirt when he grabbed her. She was staring at the strip of skin above the neckline, his collarbones were peeking out. 

He was pressing forward against her, her back against the edge of the table as he set the camera down. “Betty…” 

Looking up she was met with his baby blues, staring her down with a look of unease. Betty was about to question what was wrong when he bent forward, his arm tightening on her waist. Her eyes fluttered closed as Jughead’s lips found hers. 

It was sinfully sweet, the gentle way his lips moved against hers. She wanted to sigh against his mouth and settled for parting her lips slightly. Jughead’s hands ran over the curve of her waist, both settling on her hips and pulling her body closer against him. 

Their chests were pressed together and she could swear Jughead could probably feel her heart beating against him. Her body felt tingly from the press of their lips, warm, wet, and sweet. She could taste the brown butter icing on Jughead’s tongue when he swiped it against hers. 

Betty’s body was stiff, and she didn’t know what to do with her hands other than grip fistfulls of his shirt as she tried to press closer to him. 

Jughead pulled back from her mouth, leaning his forehead against her, lips hovering just above hers. Betty opened her eyes to look up at him, the pad of his thumb brushing against the curve of her cheek as his breath fanned against her lips. 

“Baby girl, sweet girl, you need to _relax,_ ” his words against her lips had her breath literally catching in her throat. 

It was an uncomfortable rush of emotions as a familiar voice rang through her ears, a vision of her in this same position, crowded against a countertop with too tight hands on her waist, nails digging into her skin. Hot breath whispering into her ear and making her squirm uncomfortably. 

Betty felt trapped, walls starting to close in as her vision turned black and spotty. Her whole body became rigid, her fingers shaking in their vice-like grip on Jughead’s shirt. 

Her chest was heaving now, it was like she was trying to breathe through a straw. Her lungs were on fire and her shoulders felt heavy, like someone was pushing her down, trying to shove her under water. Everything sounded muffled, like someone had clapped their hands over her ears. All she could hear was the fast beat of her heart, hammering in her chest like it wanted to break through her ribcage. 

Her eyes clenched tightly shut as the words came rushing forward in her memories. That sickly sweet, deceiving voice. “ _Sweet girl, relax for me. My girl Friday…”_

  


_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr: [lilibug--xx](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lilibug--xx)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 5! Thanks to [@strix](https://strix.tumblr.com)/[kingmaker](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kingmaker/pseuds/kingmaker) for being my beta! As always, much, much love. I would be... well, nothing, without you. ❤
> 
> This chapter features flashbacks of Betty's past, not particularly in order either. Which made it very difficult to write for me, as Strix said, it was "tripping me up". But here it is, finally done. So sorry for the bit of a wait!

 

She couldn’t breathe.

It felt like she was underwater; the rush of it filling her throat, leaving her breathless, gasping, choking for a breath of air. Her knees were weak, and there was nothing Betty  wanted more than to sink to the floor in a boneless heap, but she was rooted to the spot.

She was hyper-conscious of all the points of her body, simultaneously feeling dazed and muddled. Betty _was_ aware of a pair of hands gripping her biceps tightly, holding her in place. She felt the strong warmth — a pleasant burn against the way her skin had turned clammy and chilled.

“... _Betty_...”

She blinked against the black spots in her vision until she found her gaze focusing on the tiled floor of her kitchen. There was a pair of black combat boots filling her vision and her stomach filled with dread. _No, not_ my _kitchen_. Betty squeezed her eyes tightly shut as her body began to shake.

“... _Betty_ ,” she heard it that time, a distinctly male voice. Rough with unbridled emotion — concern, she realized, absently. _Jughead_ , she thought with a start. Immediately she felt stupid, small, uneasy with the way things things had turned south so quickly. Betty never meant for this to happen — for his sweet kiss that she was desperate for, to trigger her into an unwelcome embrace of the past.

Her teeth were biting hard into her cheek, the coppery tang of blood sharp on her tongue. She licked her lip, sucking a breath of air in through parted lips when she realized her lungs were burning.

Betty was getting glimpses of the past she had tried so hard to move on from.

_She was trapped — arms caging her in against the kitchen counter of a rundown apartment. It was dark, dingy, musty — the smell in the air a mix of chemicals and burn of smoke. Betty was looking down at big brown eyes as she pressed herself against the counter as hard as she could to create space between them._

_“My sweet girl Friday, why so scared? Afraid I’m going to bite too hard?”_

_Betty’s lower lip trembled and her eyes widened. The dark gaze in the other girl's eyes was anything but playful._

_Betty shook her head, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes._

“Jughead,” she choked out, a desperate plea. She was spiraling down and needed something to ground her.

His thumbs brushed her arms in a soothing manner. She focused on the press of the pads of his fingers against her, how the touch was gentle and comforting.

“Sweetheart, I’m here,”  His low voice brought a relieved sigh to her lips as she forced herself take a deep, agonisingly slow breath. She unclenched her hands, flexing her fingers experimentally.

“I’m so, _so_ sorry. Obviously I hadn’t intended  for this to happen...”

Betty wanted to apologize _to him;_  for the situation. Instead, she  choked back a sob — her emotions starting to unravel from the gentle, precarious hold she had just gathered on them.

Shaking her head, Betty sucked in a sharp breath, her words spilling out in a rush. “Don’t be sorry, please. None of this is your fault. At all. I _promise._ ”

Then, the memories assaulted her once again; before she had time to do more than grip Jughead’s forearms to hold herself upright.

_._

_._

_._

_“Please._ Please _, just let me go_ home… _”_

_“Ah, ah, ah. Betty, baby, what would the others say?” Slender fingers with sharp, tapered nails traced the outline of the dark blooming bruise on Betty’s jaw where the other girl had backhanded her earlier._

_“I told you: I’m not_ your _baby anymore.”_

 _Despite the shake of her hands at her sides, her own nails digging into the flesh of her palms, her voice was steady_ — _defiant_.

 _“We’re over, Toni. You chose the Serpents over me, let them lead you down a path you won’t let me help you escape. So, I’m done. I’m. Done._ We _are done.”_

_She was impressed with herself then, managing not to let her voice crack or let the other girl’s snarling lip interrupt her. Toni was stunned enough by her courage that Betty was able to duck under her arms and head toward the door._

_A hand grasped her wrist tightly, yanking her backwards. Betty hissed as she was pulled around, Toni’s grip a bruising punishment._

_“You’re going to regret this, Cooper.”_

_“Doubt it, Topaz,” Betty snarled, showing her teeth, “I am so much better alone than I ever was with you. But you? There won’t be anyone to help you when you overdose. Or when this sick gang decides they want to push you past your limits. I won’t be crying over you anymore.”_

_._

_._

_._

_They were happy, once, Betty was sure. They must have been._

_Their beginning was sweet: Full of hesitant touches, lingering gazes; the subtle up-and-downs they would give, checking each other out._

_They were total opposites besides the glaringly obvious._

_Skirts, converse, ballet flats, sweaters, jeans, lace dresses, delicate jewelry, all soft and pastels. Blue eyes and golden hair._

_Chunky boots, ripped jeans, flannel, studs and spikes, leather, and black black black. Caramel skin and brown eyes._

_They had fallen in love slowly, gradually, day by day; it was an inevitable collision. Dancing around each other until the other was sure there must be_ something _more behind those sweet smiles and hesitant lip bitings._

_._

_._

_._

_The first time she walked in and saw Toni with a syringe between her teeth and a tourniquet tightly looping around her bicep — Betty wanted to violently retch, so tightly had the swirling mix of apprehension and concern twisted within her. She couldn't believe things had turned to this. They had screamed at each other for what felt like hours, until Betty cried herself to sleep after the door slammed shut. Toni didn’t say where she was going, but she didn’t have to, Betty knew._

_._

_._

_._

_The first time Toni put her hands on Betty in a threatening manner, it had scared her more than the drugs did. (A fact which was, in retrospect, quite telling about the state of their relationship in and of itself.)_

_The smaller girl’s purple-stained talons were digging into the skin of her waist and drawing lines that welled up with sticky red, making bruises in delicate pale skin. She had screamed for Toni to stop, but instead found herself earning a swift crack across the cheek, splitting it. The blow was harsh, rough, the sting lingering well into the next day._

_In the moment though, it had silenced Betty, as it had intended to._

_._

_._

_._

_They had always enjoyed each other’s bodies. All soft curves and delicate, smooth skin. Betty had never told her mother when she started dating Toni, afraid of what her family would think._

_These days, she longed for the days when she worried about the choice of her partner’s gender. She would take it over worrying whether her girlfriend would show up high and loving, or angry and rough. Neither was a combination Betty liked._

_They had fit well together at first_ — _Toni’s head tucking under Betty’s chin when they lay in bed together. The contrast of their appearances was appealing, endearing even._

_Toni loved to buy Betty a plethora of pink — it was surely her favorite color, despite her protests that it wasn’t. Betty was always thankful, even though it was never her favorite. Years of having it pushed on her by her mom, and now Toni._

_Perhaps, she should have taken the hint when Toni brushed her feelings on the matter aside, despite multiple protestations of otherwise. Hindsight was 20/20, as they say. And Betty was in love._

_._

_._

_._

_It started to go downhill when Betty realized Toni was going through with the initiation into the gang she had been hanging around with. Betty had never liked the Southside Serpents. But it was because they were drug dealers and pushers, an embittered, violent, and angry lot._

_Toni’s uncle was apart of the gang, however, and despite her insistence that membership was voluntary — she had proclaimed she wasn’t going to ever join — Toni had fallen into their insidious web._

_When the other girl came home with a black leather jacket around her firmly-set shoulders, walking with a limp, Betty knew. She didn’t have to see the large snake tattoo winding its way up her girlfriend’s thigh, or the piercing red of the snake’s eyes on the patch sewn into the jacket. The split lip and bloodied knuckles — the look of exhaustion. It was enough._

_Betty didn’t know — didn’t want to know, what initiation entailed. She didn’t want any part of this. Despite Toni’s protests that this new part of her life would never touch Betty, she knew it was lie._

_._

_._

_._

_Her initial attraction to Toni was always something Betty was surprised by._

_Betty was never into labels and as such had a hard time classifying herself. She let her feelings and thoughts guide her on matters of affection and attraction, not public opinion._

_They had met in a Statistics class their freshman year of college. Betty being ever so prepared, had everything she could possibly need for class. She had sat herself in the third row, one seat in from the aisle — not too ambitious, but not lackadaisical either._

_Ten minutes into the lecture a girl with flannel tied around her waist, skin on display in a crop top, sat in the empty chair next to Betty._

_There was a lot of shuffling, papers, books, the rustle of fabric. Betty furrowed her brows, trying to block out the noise as she pressed her pencil against the paper a little bit harder._

_“Hey, you got an extra pencil I could borrow?”_

_Betty turned to the girl with a frown on her face. Of course she had an extra. The frown on her lips twitched as she drank in the sight of the other girl. Brown hair tinted pink in the least obnoxious way possible —_ like strands of cotton candy _, Betty thought absently._

_She handed over the pencil she was writing with, the other girl plucking it from between her fingers._

_“Thanks, doll.”_

_Betty scrunched her nose up, reaching down for another pencil from her bag resting at her feet._

_“You’re welcome,” Betty muttered. She was nothing if not polite._

_The class went on, Betty took pages of notes. She kept growing frustrated with the fact that the girl next to her (who had been late) was just twirling the pencil between her fingers all class, only a few things scribbled in her notebook that Betty kept glancing at._

_Betty didn’t realize the class had ended, or that she had stopped writing. Instead she found herself staring at her pencil that the other girl was holding out to her. She blinked, green eyes trailing up to brown. There was a smirk on the girl’s lips, mirth in her big brown eyes. Betty admired the way her eyelashes fluttered with the tilt of her head._

_“A little lost in your head?”_

_Betty shook her head, snapping out of her thoughts. “Guess I wasn’t really paying attention to the lecture at the end there,” her fingers grasped the end of the pencil, tugging. It stayed firmly in the other girls grasp and Betty felt sparks of fire tremble up her arm when the girl leant forward, her other hand planted on the desk as she got closer to Betty’s face._

_“Careful. Might have to pop a button on that sweater, loosen you up.”_

_Betty’s cheeks flushed and she tugged the pencil out of the other girl’s hand. “Yeah, I got it,” she grit out, her jaw already feeling achy from the clench of her teeth._

_The pink-haired girl laughed and if the sound wasn’t so pleasant Betty might have wanted to punch her._

_“I just mean you need to relax. See you Friday, pretty girl,” the smirk making her skin burn pleasantly hot, brown eyes lingering before she turned away._

_Why was it that Betty was so excited for Friday now?_

_._

_._

_._

Shaking her head, Betty leant forward into Jughead’s comforting embrace. She wasn’t sure when they had moved to sit on the couch, or when she had snuggled into his chest, but despite the unfamiliarity of the position, she wasn’t complaining. He had one arm wrapped around her shoulders holding her protectively. The heavy, solid weight felt nice against her and she sighed softly into his shoulder.

His other hand was resting over her balled up  fists, in the small space between them. Betty was gripping the couch cushion harshly with her fingers, and she let go when she felt the ache in her knuckles. Jughead’s thumb immediately smoothed down the backs on her hands brushing the wrinkles of her skin soothingly.

“Hey,” he whispered, “Welcome back.”

Betty relished the smooth tone of Jughead’s voice flooding her ears. Taking another deep breath, which included an inhale of his heady scent — the pine and paper doing wonders to ease her mind.

“Jug, I am so sorry,” her voice got stuck in her throat, her eyes threatening to well with tears again. Strong hands gripped her biceps, pushing her gently back so that they could look at each other.  

“It’s _okay_ , Betts. Nothing to be sorry for. Just take some time to decompress.”

Nodding at his sincere words, (her heart aching wondrously at the nickname he’d used) Betty wiped under her eyes with her fingers. “Okay… thanks, Juggie,” she employed her own, searching his face afterward for any discontent.

The smile that took over Jughead’s face was telling and it made her lips quirk up despite the situation.

“Should you eat something or..." his words trailed off and Betty gave a small shrug.

“Just… just don’t leave me alone yet. Sometimes the memories keep coming, even after my attack has passed.”

Jughead nodded, his thumbs brushing the skin of her arms absently. Raised goosebumps prickling her skin under his ministrations.

Betty appreciated the metaphorical space he was giving her by not asking questions; and enjoying the physical comfort of his closeness at the same time. Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to calm the raging waters of her thoughts — like deep waves lapping at her toes in soft, warm sand.

Opening her eyes, she met Jughead’s — a smoky grey in this light and angle. “Can we… lie down? Here, on the couch?”

Seeming to think for a moment, Jughead then scooted back so he was sitting in the corner of the couch. Betty stood as he made himself more comfortable, slouching down and pulling his legs up and stretching out. His arms opened invitingly and Betty stretched herself out beside him, resting  on her side, her front pressed to his side.

One of Jughead’s arms curved around her shoulders, the other settling just along his hipbone and thigh. In a brazen moment, she considered grasping his hand with hers. But Betty thought better of it and curled her arms up to her chest, her fingers twisting in the side of Jughead’s soft, worn t-shirt.

In the quietness, Betty was calm. The sounds of their breath and gentle ticking of the clock hanging on the wall behind them, the soft hum of the tv.

Betty closed her eyes; not opening them again until sometime later.

Her body felt stiff and she wanted to stretch out her limbs, to uncurl herself like a cat. She realized that her and Jughead hadn’t seemed to have moved a muscle save for his arm that hadn’t been around her shoulders. It was curved behind his head like a pillow, similar to how she seemed to be using his chest as hers. Which, she noted appreciatively, was very firm.

Craning her neck, Betty looked to the clock hanging on the wall above them. It was late, just after 11.

In the soft light of Jughead’s apartment, she looked to his face. He was still sleeping — peacefully, she noted, with a serene calmness. His features that seemed tense and hard during the day were soft and worry-free now. Betty couldn’t stop the hand that reached up to smooth her thumb along the crinkle by his mouth, a frown line that she wanted to rub away.

Her hand raised higher, gently tracing the sharp angle of Jughead’s cheek with two fingers now, up the side of his face. Brushing back a lock of inky dark hair, Betty pushed her fingers into the rest of his hair. His beanie had come off at some point — she wasn’t sure when. The strands of his hair felt like silk, and begrudgingly, she thought about how much softer his hair was than hers.

Jughead seemed to stir under her actions and her hand stilled, her fingers still buried in his hair. He only seemed to nuzzle slightly into her hand, a sleepy sigh falling between his parted lips.

A smile bloomed on her face, the giggle welling up in her throat, becoming difficult to swallow. Betty ran her hand through his hair a couple more times before curling her arm back and relishing the warmth of being tucked into Jughead’s side.

She knew she needed to go, that she couldn’t just close her eyes and go back to sleep — no matter how much she really wanted to.

So — Betty carefully unfolded herself from the couch and from Jughead’s arm around her. She tucked his elbow against the cushions, placing his hand on his chest, and thinking for a brief moment, that she didn’t want this to end. Her eyes were drinking in the picture of him before Betty crept to his kitchen to write a note. Explaining her disappearance and her expressing her gratitude for his help. Now, she needed to tuck the note where he would see it. Boldly, Betty slid it into the front pocket of his jeans, the paper crinkling even as she tried to be careful. She couldn’t stop the blush that rose on her cheeks from the act, despite its innocence.

After putting some plastic wrap (which she had been surprised to find he had) over the dessert bars, Betty put them away on his kitchen counter and made her way out and across the hall. The door clicked behind her and enveloped her in a now stifling silence.

She wanted to talk to her sister. Why did her phone have to be broken?

Betty thought idly, maybe she ought to order a new one. Just a cheap one that would get her through for a while.

Sitting down at her kitchen table, Betty opened her laptop and did a quick ebay search. She found a decent option for just over $100, so she went for it. Slipping her chin into her palm, she scrolled through her facebook feed for a few minutes before growing bored.

Rolling her head around in her hand, she decided to pull up skype, clicking on her sister's name. The chances she would answer were slim, but it would go to her phone at least. The late hour was a bit of a problem, and Betty hoped she wouldn’t be waking Polly or the twins up.

It only took two rings for her sister’s face to fill the screen. Betty grimaced slightly at her own image, her mussed hair and eye bags — it was obvious she had done a bit a crying. But Polly was beautiful, as always. Long golden curls and wide bright eyes despite the darkness of the room she was in.

“Betty? What’s wrong?”

Her sister was ever so concerned, Betty was torn between smiling and laughing.

“Oh, Polls, I’m sorry for calling so late.”

Polly was walking, Betty could hear the click of a door shutting and a light coming on — she was in the bathroom now, sitting down on the closed toilet seat.

“It’s alright, J’s asleep and so are the twins. I was just reading before bed,” she seemed to prop her phone up on the sink counter. “Why are you calling me from skype?”

“I dropped my phone in the bath yesterday. It got fried like a piece of burnt toast. Just ordered a replacement a bit ago.”

“Oh, no... I told you to stop taking your phone in there with you. I’ve told you that maybe a _hundred_ times, Betty —”

“Okay, _mom,_ ” Betty rolled her eyes.

“—I’m serious. I’m surprised it didn’t happen before now, to be honest.”

“I know, okay? It was… stupid,” Betty’s eyes were threatening to fill with tears again.

“Oh, Betty… what’s wrong? Did something happen? Are you ok?” her sister’s frantic voice made her shake her head and Betty ran her fingers under her eyes preemptively.

With a shaky breath, she looked back to Polly who was worrying her lip between her teeth, brow furrowed in concern. “I had a panic attack.”

“And you’re alright now? When was it? Did you do your breathing exercises? You should have called me — skyped me.”

“Yes, I’m ok now. It was actually several hours ago. My neighbor… Jughead, helped me through it,” Betty paused for a moment, watching Polly relax some. “I was in his apartment. We were… kissing.”

“Oh… _oh_ , and that led to a panic attack?”

“Yes. It wasn’t his fault, though. I haven’t talked to him about Toni, because we haven’t known each other very long. But I _like_ him, and we kissed. I was being all tense —”

Polly snorted at that and Betty sent her a glare through the screen.

“—and he said I needed to relax. That, combined with the way he had said ‘sweet girl’ and the position we were in —”

“Hmm? Position? What position was that?”

“— would you stop interrupting me, Pols?” Betty was only semi-kidding, rolling her eyes at Polly.

Her sister’s tinkling laugh echoed from the speakers. “Just interested in the _details_ , dear sister of mine.”

“Fine, fine, so he had me up against the kitchen table. Hands on either side of my hips. Happy?”

“ _Very_.” Polly’s grin could rival the Cheshire Cat’s.

“So, it just reminded me of… you know, Toni. I could hear those same words coming out of her mouth. I could feel her arms caging me in — trapping me.”

Betty sighed into her hands, running them down her face and then pressing her palms against her closed eyes, rubbing them.

“But… you said Jughead helped you through it? You didn’t _totally_ freak out.”

Dragging her hands away from her eyes, Betty stared at Polly who had an eyebrow raised at her.

“Well, no, I guess not.”

“That’s good! You’re making progress then. This Jughead may be helping you more than you realize. It’s about time you moved on from this, especially _with someone_.”

“Yeah, I know. Three years is a long time, _trust me, I know,_ ” Betty shot her sister an incredulous look.

Polly let out a howl of laughter, her hand clamping over her mouth immediately as she quieted her outburst. Her giggles burst through her fingers and it was infectious — Betty’s lips turning upwards until she was grinning and shaking her head.

“Stop, Polly. This is a serious conversation.”

“Then why are you still laughing with me?”

“Oh, shush, you goose.”

A beat of silence passed, then, “So, Jughead is your neighbor?”

Betty sighed, “Yes. My very attractive, very interesting, in-possession-of-a-steady-job neighbor. _But_ , he also wears leather, smokes, and rides a motorcycle.”

“Well… that sounds great to me.”

“Of course it does, Jason drives a volvo.”

“Hey! Volvo’s are a perfectly respectable mode of transportation,” Polly’s voice was full of indignation.

“Yeah, I know. But you always were attracted to the bad boy types. I’ll never know how you ended up with preppy, heir-to-a-maple-syrup-empire JJ.”

Polly ducked her head. “Let’s just say there’s a reason that I got pregnant so quickly…”

“Ok, wow,” Betty drawled. “That was a visual  I did _not_ need, Polly.”

“Just so we’re on the same page, I’m talking about sex.”

Betty rolled her eyes at her sister, “Yeah, I got _that_ , Mrs. TMI.”

“Alright, just wanted to clear that up,” her sister’s smug smile was as beautiful as it was annoying. “Well, anyway. What’s so bad about those things? With Jughead? Just because he may do or have some of the same things as Toni, _does not make him like her_.”

“I know, _I know_. But… while I may understand it on an intellectual level, subconsciously my brain has a hard time comprehending that,” and truly, it did.

Betty closed her eyes, repeating the mantra that helped her gain focus and clarity when she often felt herself slipping back in time, adding a new part to the beginning.

_The person I like is different, the situation is different, my life is different. But I’m still the same._

Distantly, she thought that she could do this. It would take time and effort, but _she could do it_. She was going to have to eventually, now or later — and she definitely didn’t want to let Jughead slip through her fingers.

“Tetty was just never going to be a thing,” Polly said, suddenly, nodding with her words as Betty made a face.

“Tetty?”

“Yeah, it was the ship name I gave you and Toni.” Polly made a face. “The alternative was Copaz, and that just wasn’t going to fly.”

Raising an eyebrow at her sister, Betty gave her look that reflected her next words, “ _Really?_ ”

“Yes, don’t judge me,” Polly huffed. “It’s all I have as a stay-at-home mom. Don’t begrudge me my shipping.”

Betty bit back a smile. “And your kids…?”

“Oh, yeah. Them too. Anyway,” Polly brushed some hair behind her shoulders a sly smile on her face that made Betty’s stomach flip, because she _knew_ that smile.

“Now, Bughead? Yeah, that has a nice ring to it.”

 

 _tbc_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr, I post a plethora of things. [lilibug--xx](https://lilibug--xx.tumblr.com)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, here is chapter 6! This is a little bit of filler - some serious, some fluff! :)
> 
> Thanks to [@strix](https://strix.tumblr.com)/[kingmaker](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kingmaker/pseuds/kingmaker) for being my beta! As always, much, much love. I would be... well, nothing, without you. ❤

It was late by the time the conversation between Betty and Polly had dwindled down to nothingness. They had spent about two hours talking back and forth — the subject veering from Betty’s past relationship and her brewing attraction to Jughead, to a variety  other things after a while.

Polly lived in Baywood, approximately an hour and half away from Betty’s apartment in East Village, excluding any traffic time. So, they didn’t physically see each other _that_ often, even though Polly was a stay-at-home mother. She homeschooled her and Jason’s twins, Mari and Mac — who are little redheaded terrors at six-years-old.

But, they talk on Skype or FaceTime pretty often and Betty goes over twice a month for dinner, and likewise, Polly comes to the city for shopping trip or to do something else together.

Betty still doesn’t speak to her parents — or rather, they don’t speak to her.

With a sigh Betty turned over on her side, eyes opening and staring through the veil of darkness. Through the curtains covering the window in the bedroom, the white light of the moon was streaming in, casting a pleasant glow. It was a surprisingly warm night for the end of January — Betty had slipped on her silk pajama-set as a means to cool herself down.

Though, she hadn’t really slept anyway.

The red numbers on her alarm clock were glaring at her. Betty huffed and turned onto her back again, crossing her hands over her stomach. It was just after six am, and she had been tossing and turning since slipping between the sheets at one.

Despite feeling better after talking to Polly, she hadn’t felt tired anymore after her nap with Jughead.

What was he doing right now? Did he wake up and wonder when she had left; where she had gone? Did he read the note she left for him? Was he having a restless night just like her; was he worried about her?

Betty rubbed at her eyes, sinking her head further into her pillow. At least her bed was very comfortable. There were some days she simply didn’t want to leave it at all — but today was not one of those days. She was desperate to see Jughead again.

It being Saturday, she hoped he didn’t have work or any other obligations. At least not this morning, because it was then that Betty decided she would make a breakfast spread for him, as a thank you — for being so supportive and for not pushing her to talk about anything.

After showering and dressing in a pair of cuffed jeans and a navy off-the-shoulder sweatshirt, Betty pulled on a pair of socks and ran a brush through her hair. She tied it up into a bun, and decided to throw a matching suede navy ribbon around it in a bow. All she did for her face was put on some moisturizer and coat her lashes in mascara. After washing her hands Betty looked down at her palms. The silvery scars running across both her palms staring up at her.

Balling both hands into fists, Betty squeezed — hard. The press of her fingernails against her skin felt foreign and painful. With a sigh she relaxed her hands, letting them fall back to her sides. She kept her nails on the shorter side, so she wouldn’t be tempted into old habits. But, Betty realized that the actions of her past weren’t going to define her anymore.

Curling her hands so hard into fists that her nails pierced the skin of her palms was something she had been doing since high school. Betty had been able to stop it when she got to college and away from her mother and her unfathomable expectations and the insurmountable pressure of being the _perfect girl-next-door_.

Halfway through her relationship with Toni, when everything had started to turn down that dark and windy road, Betty had resumed with the bad habit.

The day after she ended things for good with Toni, was when she made an appointment with a therapist. There was more going on in her life than just Toni though, and Betty felt out of sorts and out of control of her emotions for a while — she hadn’t felt like herself in a long time.

Medication wasn’t something she was keen on at first, but know she knew that it was necessary for some people, herself included. She felt fundamentally better than she had in years. It’s funny how sometimes you don’t even know you’re depressed when you’ve been feeling that way for so long, at some point,  it became the  norm.

Betty felt good, despite yesterday’s panic attack. Looking at herself in the mirror she gave her teeth a quick brush and smiled at herself. She tried to see what Jughead might. Chewing on her lower lip, she shook her head.

Shuffling out of her room and through the apartment, she tidied up a few things before reaching the kitchen. Then started pulling out a griddle and a couple of skillets from the lower cabinets.

Praying she had enough eggs, Betty opened the fridge to find her carton only had two missing, after all. She gathered her other ingredients from the fridge and riffled through her pantry cabinets before laying everything out on the counter.

On the menu for today: buttermilk pancakes, cheesy scrambled eggs, bacon, fresh fruit (thankful she had a container of strawberries, blueberries, pineapple, and cantaloupe mix hanging out in her fridge) and cottage cheese, and a sourdough toast — which she had some fresh apricot preserves to slather on (thanks to Union Square Greenmarket).

Pushing the sleeves of her sweatshirt up to her elbows, Betty then pulled her apron on, tying it at her waist. She set to work, dropping pats of butter in each skillet, defrosting the bacon she pulled from the freezer, and working on whipping up the eggs and preparing the pancake mix. Ideally thinking, this breakfast would also be a good post for her blog — breakfast was always something easy. She would make it a post about cooking on a dime, since most of this stuff was pretty fairly inexpensive.

With a hum of appreciation at the sizzle in her skillets and the electric griddle, Betty made sure she had her platters and foil ready for when the food would be done.

Bacon got started first, because that would take longer to cook. She also made sure to flip the fan on over her stove so she wouldn’t be setting off the smoke alarm. She sliced some pieces of bread from the sourdough loaf and popped them into the toaster.  Humming to herself as the bacon started popping in the skillet, fork in hand, Betty wiggled the pieces around as they started to cook.

The fruit was set out on a plate on the table with the apricot preserves, butter, and maple syrup. Blossom maple syrup, to be exact — it was still odd seeing her sister’s last name on her table.

After flipping the bacon over, Betty started portioning out the pancake mix onto the griddle. The heavenly smell permeated through her apartment by now and she wondered with a snicker if she opened her door if she could draw Jughead over here with the enticing smell of the food.

Thankfully, breakfast food was easy and cooked fast. After plating the bacon and covering it with foil, she did the same to the platter of pancakes. Betty used the pan from the bacon to cook the eggs, sprinkling grated cheese over them.

To go with the meal Betty poured glasses of pineapple orange juice, wondering if she should break out the mini bottle of champagne hanging out on the door of her fridge to turn them into mimosas. Scrunching her nose up, she thought maybe she’d better save it for another time.

Once the eggs were scrumptiously scrambled, Betty piled them in a bowl and covered them with the foil. Pushing the lever on the toaster down, she wiped her hands on her apron before taking it off and hanging it up on the hook on the side of her fridge. Without bothering to put on any shoes, Betty just left her door ajar so the smell of eggs and bacon would be enticing, and stepped the few feet across the hall.

Raising a fist to knock, Betty hoped Jughead was awake. It was only eight-thirty, but with everything yesterday, she wouldn’t be surprised if he had trouble sleeping after their impromptu nap either. Betty would, however, feel immensely guilty if such was the case.

_Knock, knock, knock._

Waiting, Betty twisted her hands in the hem of her sweatshirt. She figured she would actually feel guilty whether she woke him up or if he had been awake cause he hadn’t been able to sleep.

The door opened just as she was getting ready to knock one more time.

Jughead looked like he had just stepped out of the shower, hair wet and cheeks flushed. Not to mention he wasn’t wearing a shirt and just had on a low slung pair of grey joggers. Looking without _really_ looking was hard and so that she didn’t look like a fish out of water and he a tall drink — Betty started talking.

“Juggie, hi, good morning. I’m sorry I kinda snuck out last night, I guess you got my note? I had to call my sister and talk with her, which actually helped a lot. But I wasn’t really able to sleep last night which was awful, except our nap was so nice and —”

Jughead laid a finger on her lips, Betty’s words dying in her throat with a high-pitched squeak — just as he had intended.

With wide eyes, she looked up at Jughead. He was running his other hand through his wet hair, pushing a stubbornly curling forelock  out of his eyes.

He looked down at her as she fidgeted in her spot, his finger falling from her lips and hooking in the waist of his pants. Betty couldn’t help the way her eyes had followed the movement and quickly she snapped her eyes back up to his — blue today, dark and stormy like an ocean during a hurricane.

He fixated on her with an amused look. “Now, what were you trying to say?” Jughead’s voice was raspy and low, like maybe that was the first time he’d spoken today. It made her stomach tense up and flutter.

“Sorry,” Betty winced, she couldn’t help the apology slipping out. “I’m sorry for yesterday but I am very grateful for you — you helped me from making that worse than it already was. And so…” her words trailed off momentarily.

Glancing down at the  floor, she stared at her sock covered feet with annoyance. Betty hadn’t realized she had pulled on two different socks earlier. One decorated with colorful stripes on a white background and the other a light blue one with unicorns. Wiggling her toes against the hardwood, she looked back up.

“I made a really nice breakfast spread for us and I won’t take no for an answer. We’re eating,” pausing again, her eyes sweeping over him and taking note of the heat still in her cheeks, and said, “as soon as you put a shirt on.”

Jughead laughed at her then, and he looked down at himself. He turned, throwing a “one sec,” over his shoulder at her before disappearing back into his apartment. The door stayed open and Betty waited patiently, arms crossed over her chest.

He re-appeared shortly, a dark red t-shirt with a faded ‘S’ printed on it. His beanie was back on his head as well. He brushed past her, locking the door to his apartment and then swinging the key around his finger. Betty caught the glimmer of his crown ring before she turned on her heel towards her apartment.

As she opened the door wider, the smell of the food got stronger. “Okay, how did I not smell this before? It smells like what I think my personal heaven would be like,” Jughead stepped around her through the doorway, immediately heading to the counter where the food was laid out.

Letting the door fall shut, Betty padded up beside him, gesturing to the platters. “Set those on the table, everything’s ready. I just gotta grab the toast.”

Jughead did as she asked, juggling the platters and bowl in his arms. “Did I happen to mention breakfast food is my favorite food?”

Pulling the slices of just golden bread from the toaster, Betty rolled her eyes. “Actually, I seem to recall you saying that _all food_ was your favorite.”

Sitting across from Jughead, Betty set down their plates in front of them. He was pulling the sheets of foil off as she was opening the apricot preserves.

“Touché. But let’s just say I could eat breakfast food anytime. And of course you made _pancakes_ , they’re my fucking favorite.”  

A pleased smile graced her lips as they started loading their plates. Betty watched Jughead pile four pancakes on his plate to start with and she was glad that she had made a good sized batch.

“Pancakes are like, the least complicated of breakfast foods, Jug,” she had poured a bit of syrup over hers and let them soak it up while she munched on a piece of bacon.

“Yeah, but they’re still the best Betty."

Rolling her eyes, Betty asked, “Have you ever eaten a crêpe?”

“... No.”

“What about a dutch baby?”

His eyebrows rose into his hairline and it made her lip twitch. “ _A what baby_?”

She ignored his question, answering with another of her own. “How about a quiche?” Betty asked, spreading a layer of preserves on her toast.

After swallowing a bite of the pancakes he had drowned in butter in syrup, he pointed  his fork at her. “Ok, I have eaten that one. But pancakes are so simple and classic. You can put all kinds of toppings on them: fruit, candy, peanut butter, whipped cream, chocolate…”

“You can do all of that with waffles, crêpes, and dutch babies too.”

He threw her an incredulous look before taking a big gulp of orange juice. “Aright, _Betty Crocker_.”  

Choking a bit on her own sip of orange juice, Betty laughed. Shaking her head at Jughead, she bit into her toast, savoring the sweet and tangy taste of the apricot and bread.

Their conversation lulled as they continued to eat. Betty watched Jughead _devour_ the plate he piled up with food. They were both picking at the fruit plate she had moved to the center of the table when the pancakes were finished.

“So, I want to thank you again, Jughead,” Betty began, pausing to munch on a blueberry as she pondered the direction she was heading with this conversation. She didn’t want to overload him with information but she also wanted him to be aware of the root of her problems.

“I have anxiety and sometimes panic attacks. The last relationship I was in is a particularly triggering thing,” Betty paused then, shifting in her seat and glancing up at Jughead from the table. He had both elbows propped up in the table, eyes on her, brow furrowed as he nodded.

“I can understand that. Once again, I apologize for doing something that caused you to have an attack,” Jughead was worrying his lower lip between his teeth and then was pulling the beanie from his head and running a hand through his dark locks.

“It frightened  me to see you like that, Betty,” his eyes were a beautiful thing, a shade of stormy blue and just as fierce. The weight of his gaze made her want to sink into her chair and curl up; it almost felt like he could see her — _all of her_. Not just the sum of her actions and expressions, but her feelings, too.

“Jughead… thank you. I know it must have been difficult since you couldn’t fully understand what was happening with me,” Betty ran her fingers against the wood grain of the table, scratching lightly with her fingernails in order to give her hands something to do. Bringing her eyes up to Jughead’s, she continued, “So I’d like to tell you about my life. If we are going to go anywhere with this friendship… then I would like for you to know about this part of me.”

Across from her, Jughead nodded, his hands coming across the table and scooping hers up within his. The warmth of his palm and fingers surrounding hers was a comfort Betty hadn’t been aware she needed.

“Whatever you feel comfortable sharing with me Betty.”

“Right. So,” taking a deep breath, Betty felt a gentle squeeze from Jughead’s hands over hers and she smiled, “my last relationship, three years ago, ended kind of badly. I was involved with a girl named Toni.”

Betty wasn’t exactly sure how Jughead would feel about that portion and her eyes which had drifted down to the table came back up when Jughead held a finger under her chin, tilting her head up. Her lip trembled slightly, her heart fluttering at the look of understanding written on his face.

Clearing her throat as Jughead’s hand dropped back to hers, Betty continued, “Toni was great at first. Despite the backlash from my parents when they inevitably found out — they just didn’t understand.” she shook her head at that, that was a discussion for another time.

“Toni got involved with a gang called the Southside Serpents, despite her proclamations that she would never join, she did. Then came the drugs, the violence…” her words trailed off and Betty swallowed the lump forming in her throat.

“Initially she said I would never have to be apart of that world. But things changed quickly, and I wasn’t willing to comply. That’s when things started to get _worse_ and I’d had enough. I ended things, but it wasn’t without trouble or consequence and lingering trauma.”

Jughead nodded at her words, the little furrow between his brows was so endearing that Betty wanted to smooth it away with her thumb. She couldn’t help but feel flustered by the way he seemed to care about her.

“The thing is that you guys are very similar on the outside,” Betty paused, and Jughead quirked an eyebrow up, and she could have sworn he was going to make a joke about boobs by the way he looked down briefly at his chest and his parted lips, but he seemed to think better of the situation.

Betty wanted to roll her eyes at the look on his face. “It’s the leather, flannel, dark colors, the satire, the cigarettes, the motorcycle…”

Jughead nodded at her words, fingers tapping against the back of her hand. “And all that combined with something I must have said…”

Betty nodded back at him. “Yes. But, I’m okay with the aesthetic, so don’t worry about that. Apparently, I have a type,” she tilted her head, her fingers finding the ring on Jughead’s and twisting it around gently. Glancing up at him, he was wearing an amused smile and it made her giggle a little.

“Good to know. Remind me not to introduce you to my dad.”

Betty laughed at him then, shaking her head. “Shush, you goose. I just want you to know it doesn’t bother me. You’re obviously not Toni. I just haven’t even tried to get close to anybody since then, so it’s just a processing issue.”

“Gotcha. So you need some gentle exposure, in an environment that’s comfortable, and time. Lucky for you, I’ve got all the time in the world. Just call me a A Mad Man With A Box and you’re my River Song,” Jughead paused, contemplating, “or do you want to be Amy Pond? Because, you know, I always thought Eleven and her had something going on before he went and married her time travelling daughter.”

Betty ducked her head, trying to smother a smile — the grin on his face was infectious and endearing. She looked up, and with a mock grimace  playfully slapped the back of his hand. “Down boy.”

Jughead shoot her a look, a playful yip coming from his lips that made her giggle.

Pulling her hands back from his, Betty got up from the table and collected the empty dishes. Jughead stood up after her, grabbing the rest. They worked together to put things in the sink and away in the fridge.

When they were done, Jughead’s hands caught her by the hips — Betty felt the gentle press of his fingers and then he hooked them around her belt loops, pulling her towards him as he leaned back against the kitchen counter.

Betty’s hands flew to his shoulders, firm under her grip as he pulled them flush together. Jughead was looking down at her with a question in his eyes, searching her face for discomfort.

Truthfully, she was quite comfortable. But Betty’s heart was hammering in her chest and her stomach was quaking. The warmth radiating from Jughead was intoxicating, and the way he was drinking her in was making her feel lighter than air.

Flexing her fingers against his shoulders, Betty parted her lips with a quiet, “Please, kiss me.”

Her breathing got heavy as Jughead licked his lips and ducked his head down towards her, his nose brushing against hers and making her eyes flutter. His warm breath, sweet, and syrupy, fanning across her face.

“Are you sure?”

Betty’s frantic nodding was her only answer as she felt his hands drag up her sides. Jughead’s large hands cupped her waist, his fingers practically touching as they encircled her slim figure. Gripping handfuls of his shirt in her fists, Betty pulled at him, titillating with  anticipation. He tilted his head, lips hovering over hers for a moment before finally pressing against her.  
  
Betty’s eyes instinctively closed at the feeling of their lips finally connecting. Her hands loosened their grip on the soft, worn fabric of his  shirt, instead finding their way up over his neck and tangling in the short dark locks at the base of Jughead’s neck.

This kiss was reminiscent of their first yesterday, sweetened by the syrup and fruit they has been eating.

Their lips moved softly, parting and stilling before moving back and repeating the actions. Jughead’s teeth grazing her lower lip in their open-mouthed kisses. As he sucked it into his mouth, Betty couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her. His low growl in response making her shiver, his hands squeezed her waist as his thumbs drifted up, stroking her ribcage gently.

Jughead pressed his lips against her more firmly, his tongue flicking out against her upper lip. Heat stirred in her belly at the small movement, her head tilting as she reached up on her tiptoes, leaning further into Jughead. Betty parted her lips for him, his tongue seeking hers.

One of Jughead’s hands had moved up to her neck, cupping her face just under the shell her ear, thumb in the hollow of her jaw. He was tilting her head back, deepening the kiss. Betty sighed into his mouth, her eyelashes fluttering in time with her heart at the warmth pulsing through her veins.

Her body was responding much too quickly after the conversation they just had about taking their time.

With a gentle press of her hands against Jughead’s chest, she pulled away from him, letting her lips hover just a hair's breadth away from his. Opening her eyes, Betty bought a hand up from his chest, tracing her index finger against the gentle slope of Jughead’s cheek, much like she did the night before while he was sleeping.

His eyes opened at her touch, as her finger grazed higher, up to brush his temple. Blue eyes searching hers. His lips parted with a quiet whisper of her name, “Betty…”

With a shake of her head, lips curling into a smile, Betty licked her lower lip. His eyes tracked the movement before flicking back up to hers. Her fingers brushed a lock of hair back from his forehead before sliding down his jaw and pulling his face down to meet her in another quick kiss.

They parted swiftly, Betty biting her lower lip, tasting the remnants of him. Jughead’s hand on her jaw gripped firmly, tilting her head to the side. His lips were on her neck then, pressing lingering kisses along the column of skin up to her ear. Betty’s hands fell to his waist, tugging on his shirt again as the heat swirled in her belly with Jughead’s hot breath against her sensitive skin.

“I really like you Betty,” his words a gentle caress against her ear, causing the hair on her arms to stand up on end.

“I…” Betty paused, eyes closing momentarily as she gathered her thoughts through the haze. “I really like you, too, Jughead.”

His sigh against her made a shiver crawl delightfully up her spine. “Good.”

Jughead pulled her head to rest on his shoulder, arms looping around her waist and holding her against him tightly. Betty let him hold her, her fingers tracing nondescript patterns on Jughead’s side.

“Would you like to help me with my blog?” her voice was raspy and low from their kissing.

“That’s what you’re thinking about after our moment?” Jughead was teasing her and Betty smiled into his chest.

“Just trying to redirect us, Juggie. According to you, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

His groan made her smile, eyes threatening to roll. “Why did I say that?”

Slapping his arm playfully, Betty laughed. “Come on, please?”

His arms around her squeezed, picking her up slightly. “Of course, show me what you got, babe.”

“Can you go get your camera? I never actually got the photos off it.”

“Sure thing.”

Wiggling out of his grasp, Betty trudged back to her bedroom to grab her laptop as Jughead disappeared across the hall briefly.

Setting the laptop on the table in the kitchen, she pulled the two chairs close together. Sitting down in one with her legs tucked underneath her, Betty opened the laptop and pulled up her blog and her her draft post.

Hearing the door click shut, she looked up just as the flash and shutter of Jughead’s camera went off. Blinking, she watched Jughead, with the camera strap around his neck look down at the camera, examining the image he’d just captured of her.

She imagined herself, wide-eyed, messy bun, and sweatshirt hanging off her shoulders, hunched over her laptop. She scrunched her nose up and then the camera clicked again. Her groan filled the air as did Jughead’s laughter.

“Ok, I just realized I’ve unleashed a monster.”

Jughead grinned at her, sliding into the seat beside her, pulling his camera off to set it on the table. “I’m all about the beast within.”

Rolling her eyes, Betty gestured to the laptop screen. “Let’s get to work, Juggie.”

“Sure thing, Betts,” Jughead said as he slung an arm around the back of her chair, hand closing around her bicep as he leaned in close to her, eyes flickering over the screen.

Betty gazed at his profile from the corner of her eye as she leaned back into his arm around her. She couldn’t help but marvel privately at the immediate feeling of contentment, of unquestionable safety that washed over her, and she smiled before turning her attention towards the laptop.

This was going to be an interesting journey and she was excited to see where it would take them.

Later, Jughead left with a promise to take her on a real date soon. Betty had never been more excited.

.

.

.

_tbc_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 7. I hope everyone enjoys Betty & Jug's first real date. :)

Several days had passed since Betty and Jughead’s breakfast date.

Her replacement phone had come surprisingly quick, appearing nestled in the back of her mailbox at the end of the day on Monday. The gleeful sigh that parted her lips as she hugged the box to her chest would have been better suited to anything other than the older-model phone she had ordered. _At least_ , Betty thought humbly, _it had a touch screen_.

After dropping her work things on the kitchen table, she pulled the phone out and began the process of booting it up and loading in her information. Biting her lip, Betty glanced up at her door. Clicking on Jughead’s name she added in a crown emoji and then typed out a quick message to let him know her phone came and that she wasn’t living in the stone age anymore — albeit barely.

His reply came faster than she thought it would, the shrill buzzing of the phone in her hand almost had her catapulting it straight to the floor. Juggling for purchase, Betty looked down at the screen.

 

**J: good. I was growing impatient over here.**

Raising her eyebrows, Betty typed back:

**B: really? I could have sworn you just saw me yesterday. you know, since we live in the same building.**

 

She didn’t have to wait long, but instead of a buzzing on her phone, there was a knock at her door. With an eye-roll, she padded over to the door, pulling it open.

Jughead was standing there, looking delightful (or maybe it was delectable) in his leather jacket. His hair was windswept and he was beanieless, although Betty figured he might have it tucked in his back pocket. He looked like he just got home, maybe even raced inside at her texts.

He was grinning, “Thanks for reminding me.”

Faltering for a moment, Betty recalled what she had just sent him in text and huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure you really needed reminding.”

“Maybe I did. I could have been dreaming this whole weekend up for all I knew,” Jughead was leaning closer to her and she straightened her spine, holding her ground. The smell of leather and smoke was flooding her senses, her eyes picked up the cigarette tucked behind his ear, the way his hands gripped the doorframe — his knuckles were turning white.

“It wasn’t a dream… trust me,” Betty’s voice came out in a whisper, quieter than she had intended.

Jughead raised a hand, the back of his knuckles grazing against her cheek softly. “Nope,” his ‘p’ popped dramatically, his blue eyes lowering to focus on her lips. “Definitely not dreaming.”

Betty shoved her phone into the pocket of her jeans and grabbed Jughead by the lapels of his jacket. Pulling him forward into a kiss that was hard enough for their teeth to clack together and him to grunt in surprise, Betty slid up against him. The collision of their mouths coming together and then parting, was firm and filled with want. Betty’s lips pliant against his as she hummed a sigh, the small puffs of his tantalizing breath smoky and a little spicy to taste.  
  
Jughead growled, nipping at her lower lip, making her gasp, lips parting just as he had intended. Betty felt him grab her hips, holding her close as her tongue tentatively flicked into his mouth. He chased her into her own mouth, his tongue plunging in and swiping along everything in reach, eliciting a long moan from her.

They twisted together, touching and sighing as he took more and more, and Betty ate it up in turn. She shoved him against the door frame, grabbing at his hair. Jughead’s groan as she combed through his dark locks, reverberated through her chest warmly.  
  
Jughead slowed the kiss with unhurried circles of his tongue, grinning as he finally lifted his face away. Through fluttering eyelashes, Betty beamed back at him, happy satisfaction swelling in her chest.

“So… that was nice.”

Jughead’s eyebrows rose into his hairline and her hands dropped back down to his shoulders, fingering the edge of the leather there. “Just, _nice_?” he questioned, his hands pulling her tighter against him by her hips. Betty could feel all the hard planes of his body that she was desperate to glimpse without clothes again.

“Ok, more than nice,” she teased, grinning up at him.

“Ah, ah, ah. Getting warmer.”

With an eye roll, Betty leant up to Jughead’s ear. With her breath fanning against his neck, she squeezed his shoulders and started sliding her hands down his chest, fingertips trailing gently down his front before stopping just above the waist of his jeans. “Is _exciting_ a better word?” Betty breathed out against his ear, nose nuzzling the side of his neck before her fingers dipped just past the waist of his jeans — then she was back and half an arm’s length away from Jughead, arms crossed over her chest.

The spark in his eyes was enough to send licks of flame up her spine, belly igniting as Jughead licked his lips. “Very.”

His voice was low and raspy and did things to her that she’d dream about later. With a small shudder, Betty grinned gleefully.

“Well, I’ve got some work to do now, Juggie. I’ll text you,” and then she had a hand on his chest, pushing him from her doorway. He looked like a kicked puppy, eyes big and wide as he stared at her before she shut the door.

Betty was almost regretting it before she shook it off and trudged to her kitchen. Breaking out that bottle of champagne she had been lamenting over recently, she chugged it straight from the bottle.

.

.

.

.

It wasn’t until Wednesday night when she saw Jughead again. They had a steady stream of texts since Monday and were debating something to do for the weekend for their first real date.

So, the knock on her door at just after 8pm surprised her — although, Betty shouldn’t have been. In the month she had known Jughead, he seemed prone to late evenings. She supposed it was the night owl in him, plus his insomnia he had confided in her about.

Thankfully, she hadn’t yet changed into her pajamas. Hopping up from the couch, Betty clicked off the tv and set her bowl of kettle corn on the coffee table. Her socks sliding against the hardwood floor, she skeed over to the entrance and pulled open the door

Jughead brushed past her, stepping into her apartment with his hands clapping over her shoulders. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Hi,” he murmured against her and Betty sighed happily, wrapping her arms around Jughead’s waist with an affectionate squeeze. She liked living in the same building as her… boyfriend? She supposed that’s what she could call him now.

“Hi,” Betty responded, pulling back from him and stepping away to asses him.

Jughead was dressed for the outdoors. He had his beanie on, but also a warm looking red plaid coat lined with sherpa, gloves sticking out of the pocket. She raised an eyebrow at him, but before she could say anything, he was speaking.

“So, I thought tonight would be a better night for a date.”

Her eyebrows raised higher, lips quirking up at the edges. “Now? It’s already after eight, and it’s a Wednesday.”

He gave a one shouldered shrug. “No time like the present.”

With a shake of her head, Betty toyed with the hem of her sweatshirt. What else would she be doing if she said _no_? Watching the rest of her re-run of the Matchlorette?

“Ok.”

Jughead’s grin was infectious and she found herself smiling back.

He gestured to her state of dress, “Go throw something warm on. I’m taking you to Bryant park.”

Her heart rate picked up, there was only one thing they could be doing there this late at night. _Ice-skating_.

She felt giddy as she turned on her heel back to her bedroom. Closing the double doors, she relaxed back against them, blowing some blonde hairs out of her face.

Pushing forward, Betty trudged to her closet. She peeled off the black slacks she had been wearing and pulled a pair of jeans from the top of their stack. She found a thick pair of knitted socks and pulled them on overtop of her current pair and found her faux-fur lined boots. She slipped into them after pulling the jeans on. Her sweatshirt was warm, but certainly not cute. Betty switched it out for a dark blue sweater and then grabbed her grey peacoat, tugging it on.

Digging in her winter-weather tote, she produced some gloves and a hat and then doubled back for a scarf at the last second.  Betty made her way back to the living room, where Jug had perched himself against the arm of the sofa, casually, scrolling through his phone.

He looked up, eyes swiping up and down her figure before humming in approval,making her cheeks burn pleasantly.

“You look so cute bundled up like that. I would love nothing more than to unwrap every layer, but alas, another time.” Jughead said with a wink.

Rolling her eyes, Betty shooed him from the couch. “We have some place to be, so let’s go. Are we calling an Uber or riding your motorcycle?”

The words left her lips and until then, she hadn’t really thought about herself on the back of Jughead’s bike before. The thought made her want to press her thighs together as a heat bloomed low in her belly.

Instead, she pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side as she commanded her blush to die down already.

Jughead didn’t seem to notice her inner turmoil, instead stroking his hand against his chin in thought. He raised an eyebrow toward her, “Does it matter either way?”

Shaking her head, as she didn’t trust her voice, Betty watched him fish out his keys from his coat. “Motorcycle it is.”

Inwardly, Betty was making some sort of unintelligible screeching noise, on the outside — she radiated a cool ease. “Sure,” she said, giving a small shrug.

.

.

.

.

Betty was practically vibrating with excitement as she hopped off the back of Jughead’s motorcycle. After handing him the helmet he had produced for her, she shuffled off through the lot. They had parked in the parking garage on 6th and only had to walk a bit to get to Bryant.

They got to the park just before nine. It wasn’t crowded like it was during the day or even early evening. Normally the whole rink was full of people, but this late in the middle of the week was evidently a good time to go.

The rink was still decorated with lights, albeit, less Christmas themed ones. It was still just as beautiful.

Jughead had grabbed her hand, hooking it around his elbow as they approached to rent their skates. Tucking herself into his side, Betty let him handle skates, chiming in for her size when prompted. And then, grabbing the pair handed to her.

They sat down on one of the benches, pulling their shoes off to exchange them with the skates. Betty was lacing hers up when she heard Jughead clearing his throat from beside her.

Tilting her head she questioned him, “What’s up?”

His grumble came back, “I haven’t actually ice-skated before. At least, not since I was a kid.”

Betty had finished tying her laces into nice bows, sitting upright at Jughead’s words. Throwing him a quizzical look, she glanced around the rink. “Then why did you want to come?”

“Because of you. You mentioned the other day that you hadn’t had anyone to go with since your sister refuses to.”

 _Oh_. She thought, a bit dumbfounded. For one, damn Polly and her fear of twisting her ankle. Who cares if she had done it a record 11 times, she could still walk. And then — the fact that Jughead remembered that insignificant portion of a texting conversation and decided to take her, when he hadn’t been (so he couldn’t possibly know how to skate) in many years.  

Blinking, Betty realized he was staring at her, eyebrow raised. Shaking her head, she found her voice, “I promise I’m not even good. I’ll show you how _not_ to fall though.”

Jughead’s smile made hers grow bigger in turn. “If I fall, I’m taking you down with me.”

Betty laughed at him, shaking her head, but agreeing nonetheless. Most likely it would happen anyway, because people tended to grab out when starting to go down. Her eyes caught on his skates, tightly laced and her fingers twitched.

“Let me tie your laces a little looser, Juggie, or _you_ might sprain your ankle when your legs go numb.”

Dropping down to her knees, Betty knelt in front of him. Pulling the laces of Jughead’s skates undone before lacing them a bit looser around the ankles. Betty tied them properly, pulling the cuff of his pants down over them when she was done.

“Thanks,” he offered, leaning back on his palms against the bench. Betty looked up at him, planting her hands on his thighs just above his knees. Immediately she felt Jughead tense under her touch and quickly, she pulled herself up to standing, her hands falling away.

With tingling, warm fingers, Betty pulled her gloves back on. “Let’s go, we only have about an hour before closing.”

“Right, let’s tear up some ice,” Jughead said, rubbing his hands together. Betty scrunched her nose up, lips quirking into a smile. He laughed then, pulling his gloves on as well. “Yep, just kidding.”

Rolling her eyes, they stored their shoes in the locker they rented and then walked carefully over to the edge of the rink.

Putting one skate forward, holding onto the clear low wall, Betty stepped down onto the ice. Once both skates were stable, she moved away from the entrance to allow Jughead to step down. Gliding out from the wall a bit, she watched the ice before looking up. Holding out her hand for him, Betty wiggled her fingers at him.

“Come on, chicken.”

He snorted at that, but still hesitated at the edge. Seeming to steel himself, Jughead put one hand on the wall like she had done, mimicking her movements onto the ice.

Once both his skates were down and stable, Betty reached out for his hand again. His gloved palm slipped into hers, holding tightly. She smiled, pulling him towards her a little, causing him to glide forward a bit.

“Woah there,” he said, holding his other hand up.

“What? What’s wrong?”

His voice was like a whisper as he looked around at the other patrons skating past them — who weren’t even looking towards the stagnant couple. “That was _fast_ Betty.”

With a laugh, she turned and tugged Jughead’s hand again. He slid on stiff legs behind her, his arms clinging around hers as Betty pulled him along. “Loosen up, Jug.”

Jughead grumbled something unintelligible before straightening up to his full height and leaving only his hand wrapped around hers.

She waited until he gathered his balance before gesturing in front of them to the ice. Jughead moved his skates forward and back, propelling himself forward. Betty gliding along beside him as she watched his tentative movements.

They managed to make it a good distance when Betty decided to let go of his hand. The loss of warmth and pressure was disconcerting though and it made her frown slightly. She wanted to skate forward a bit and managed to do a circle around Jughead who scoffed at her.

“Show off.”

Betty rounded him again, blowing a kiss towards him. However Jughead reached out for her, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards him. They collided roughly, an “oof!” escaping her lips as her chest slammed into his. Betty’s hands fisted in his coat as she dug the toe of a skate in the ice in order to keep them steady.

“Hey,” he breathed into her ear, his arms around her waist squeezing appreciatively.

“Hi,” she whispered, turning her head up to his. The cloud of their breathes mingling in the air and warming her face as her lips trembled from the cold all at the same time.

Suddenly, someone whooshed by them quickly. Betty’s hair whipping up and snacking her in the face as Jughead jolted forward and suddenly she was tipping backwards with his weight.

Closing her eyes, Betty felt herself collide with the ice, the slam of her back and bottom against it and then again as Jughead fell on top of her. He landed on his knees above her, bracketing her legs in against the ice. 

Wincing, she pried open her eyes to see a guilty Jughead hovering over her. He had lifted himself up onto his elbows to avoid crushing her and she sucked in a breath that had left her body on the way down.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Betty,” he was rubbing at the back of his neck and Betty knew he was nervous, embarrassed maybe. Shaking her head, she let a giggle escape.

“It’s okay, Juggie. What’s a trip to the rink if you don’t fall at least once?”

His quiet, “True,” barely reached her ears. Ice-blue eyes were staring down at her intently. She felt frozen — or maybe that was the chill of the ice seeping through her coat and pants.

“Um, can we get up now? The ice _is_ kinda cold.”

Jughead shook his head, pulling himself up, carefully and holding his hand out to her. Swinging herself up (and into his arms) Betty sighed as he wrapped her up against him. The weight of his arms around her, the solidness of him at her chest made her feel inexplicably safe.

“Better?” his warm breath at her ear had her smiling and Betty nodded.

“Much. Now, let’s get some skating in before they kick us out.”

Pulling herself away from Jughead’s front, she skated forward a bit as a gust of wind blew through the rink. A sparkly shower of fine ice crystals blew into Betty’s face and she turned her nose up, arms spreading out. The ice felt good on her warm cheeks and she smiled. Twisting, she turned around and curved the blades of her skates so that she was skating backwards, drawing S-shapes as she went.

The sight she was greeted with made her bring her arms up to cover her mouth.

“Jug!” she called, through her giggles.

Betty used her toe pick to switch directions, gliding forward to where she had left Jughead in the dust and seemingly in an endless circle.

The problem was immediately obvious. Her eyes falling to where Jughead’s skates weren’t planted square and straight on the slick ice, but rather, his left was teetering inward on the edge of the razor blade. This in turn, was causing the steering to fall onto Jughead’s right leg and was resulting in him moving in an almost circle instead of forward.

“Stop, stop. Straighten up,” Betty said, hands grabbing onto his forearms. Jughead was grumbling something under his breath, her ears only catching the words “goddamn” and “skates”.

“Now, plant your feet straight on the ice. Look at mine and then at yours,” she paused, his gaze falling to her feet and then back up again. “Now, watch me,” Betty let go of his arms and demonstrated a nice glide forward.

Betty continued to help Jughead straighten his technique — he only caused them to fall twice more before he finally seemed to get it. Then they were announcing that the rink would be closing in five minutes and suddenly Jughead was pouting.

“I was just getting the hang of this,” he grumbled, sliding forward on still hesitant legs, wobbly, but in a line straight line at least.

Betty slipped her hand into his, squeezing gently. “That just means we’ll have to come back.”

Jughead grinned at her, halting them to a stop as he turned to face her. “You mean even though I made you fall three times you still want to come back here with me?”

“Of course, I still had fun.”

“So would you say you _fell for me_?”

Her eyes couldn’t help rolling back into her head at that. Betty really should have seen that coming. “Jughead.”

His smirk was as handsome as it was cocky. His hands encircled her waist bringing her in closer against him. “Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” he whispered, eyes looking down at her — icy-blue and fierce, challenging.

Betty didn’t even think to glance around at the other patrons or the fact that time was surely ticking and they should be off the ice by now. She leant forward onto the toepick of her skates, fisting her hands in warm flannel of Jughead's coat.

Bringing their lips together made her smile. The bitter cold of the air combined with their warm breath was a tantalizing combination. Betty was sure that she could stand here forever, with Jughead’s arms wrapped around her. A small sigh into his mouth had his arms tightening around her again and she leaned into him, gloved hands gripping his shoulders.

Their lips moved slowly, coming together and parting — puffs of air clouding around their faces, red, cold noses rubbing together.

_“The rink is closing now. If everyone could please exit the rink and return your skates. We will re-open tomorrow at eight am.”_

Jughead groaned into her mouth, he had just started to nibble on her lower lip when the announcement played.

Giggling against him, Betty pulled away, leaning their foreheads together. “Come on, Jug, let’s go. There can still be more fun to be had.”

His eyebrow raised inquisitively, “Yeah? I’ve got an idea if your up for something to eat.”

“Oh, I’m always up for food. That’s kind of our thing, don’t you know?” Betty teased, sending a wink his way as she pulled him along, gliding over to the edge of the rink.

“Touché,” he quipped, following after her as they began to take their skates off, changing back to their boots. Once they had returned the skates and got their outerwear situated again, Jughead was pulling her through the park.

“So where are we going?” Betty questioned, struggling slightly to keep up with Jughead’s long, lazy strides.

“Oh, you’ll know when we start to get close.”

Raising her eyebrows, Betty looked around. It was after 10pm now and most shops were starting to close.

They kept walking though, and soon enough she could feel something sweet and bakery-like floating towards them.

“O-k, I’m guessing that’s it? It smells heavenly,” her mouth was starting to water — and she hadn’t realized that she was even hungry, but her stomach was beginning to rumble. Perhaps she shouldn’t have eaten kettle corn for dinner.

They stopped in front of the green and gold storefront. The order window free and clear, waiting for them. The gold script read _Wafels & Dinges _ and her eyes glossed over the menu, jaw dropping at all the combinations of waffles and toppings.

“How have I never been here?” she found herself saying.

Jughead shrugged, “They’re pretty good — but pancakes are still better.”

Swatting his arm lightly, Betty hissed, “Jug we’re at a _waffle_ shop, be nice.”

“What? Can they hear me, Betty?” he said, looking around dramatically. Her eyes rolled and she swatted at him again.

“Come on, let’s order. I wanna take a picture of our food and maybe of the menu and the stand as well.”

Her eyes roamed the menu, elegant script befitting of the belgium ascetic of the waffle shop.

“I think I’m gonna go with the World’s Fair waffle, what about you?” Betty said, nudging Jughead in the side with her elbow as she watched him pull his wallet out, glove clenched between his teeth so he could handle the money.

“Hmm,” he eyes looked back up to the menu and he tucked the glove into his back pocket. “I think… the s’mores one.”

“Oh, let’s trade bites. That sounds good, too.”

Jughead ordered for them, paying as Betty pulled her phone out to load up the camera app. The only problem was that her “new” phone was pretty sub par. The mega pixels were abysmal on this camera.

“Babe,” the word slipped out before she could stop herself and with a squeak, she bit her lip.

“Yeah?” Jughead seemed unfazed though, if anything. He was smiling, looking over his shoulder at her as he leaned against the counter.

“Um, can I use your phone for my pictures? My camera kind of sucks right now,” she said, waving her phone in the air before tucking it back into her coat pocket.

“‘Course,” he offered it out to her from the pocket of his jeans and Betty accepted it gratefully. Pulling off her own gloves, she unlocked the screen and stepped back to grab a picture of Jughead waiting for their food in front of the stand.

In her frozen finger haste, she accidently clicked on the messaging app that was right next to the camera.

Betty wasn’t a snoop by any means, but her finger hovered over the home button. She couldn’t quite press it yet. Her eyes were glued to the screen where she saw her name at the top of the list. She ignored everything else in favor of focusing on the string of emojis beside her name.  

_Betty Cooper_

There was a pink flower, an angel, and a piece of cake.

Her heart was melting and quickly, she backed out of the app and clicked on the camera. She snapped a picture of the front of the shop, complete with Jughead, and then a zoomed in shot of the printed menu.

Her hands were shaking a bit, why, she was not sure. But her heart certainly felt full and it was a pleasant feeling.

When she was finished, Jughead was holding two plates — the smell of sweet bakery dough and whipped cream filling her with even more warmth.

“Those look great,” Betty said, tugging on his elbow to pull them towards one of the tables in the outside eatery. There were outdoor heaters to warm the space and she set them down fairly close to one.

“They look fucking amazing. Why did I say I liked pancakes better again?”

Laughing as she took a picture of their plates, Betty spoke, “You said, because you can put loads of toppings on them.”

“Well, I take it back. Because I don’t even have to eat these to know they’re better—” Jughead paused, and she tilted her head. He grabbed her hand as she set the phone down, sliding it towards him across the table. “—not to say that I didn’t _love_ your pancakes—”

“Jug.”

“—Because of course, I loved them—”

“ _Jug._ ”

“—yeah?”

Betty squeezed his hand before withdrawing and grabbing her fork to cut into her waffle. “Just eat the damn waffle.”

Jughead laughed then, lips quirking up with those little dimples that made her heart flutter.

“Right. Sorry,” he said as they both bit into their food.

Truly, it was the best waffle Betty had ever had. The menu said they were made with pearl sugar, unique to Belgium. The pearls burst and carmalize when the dough hits the iron, resulting in a rich, sugary dense waffle.

The strawberries and whipped cream on hers was light and refreshing — cutting the sugar well. Whereas Jughead’s was all about the extra sweetness with marshmallows, spekuloos spread and chocolate fudge sauce.

They settled into a comfortable silence, enjoying taking bites of each other’s waffle and their own.

Betty was slipping into a bit of a daydream, as she imagined them doing this in bed one day. Lazy and relaxing with each other — comfortable.

Her shoulders slumped slightly as she thought about it with a sigh. There was a part of her (mostly all) that wanted that so badly, _right now_.

Instead, she tried to think of something to fill the air as they got down to their last bites. Clearing her throat as a thought came to her.

“Did you know,” Betty swallowed her last bite before continuing, “Waffles are just pancakes, but with _abs_.” the seriousness of her own voice astounded her just then and she couldn’t help the wiggle of her eyebrow that followed.

Jughead looked stricken across from her for a moment before he burst out in laughter, throwing his head back and clapping his hands together in front of him. Betty’s own laughter bubbling up in her throat and spilling out.

They laughed loudly together, the single other patron seated outside gazing at them with mirth before shaking their head and returning to their own food. Her laughter dissolved into giggles, as Jughead gazed at her, smirk on his lips as their laughter died down.

Betty tilted her head as she drew her fork across the plate. Scooping up the last of her whip cream, she licked it from her fork before setting it back down on her empty plate. Looking back up across the table to Jughead, she noticed the mysterious twinkle in his blue eyes that had gotten dangerously dark, causing her belly to spark with heat just like earlier.

Her throat felt dry under his intense stare, his eyes focused on her lips were Betty had pulled her bottom one between her teeth. Jughead had that look on his face again, like he wanted to _devour_ her. Her cheeks felt hot and she squirmed in her seat under his scrutiny.

Her name was but a whisper on her tongue, “Juggie…”

His lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them. Jughead shook his head, voice low when he answered her. “You’re beautiful, Betty.”

She thought for a moment about how many times she had fallen earlier, how red her cheeks and nose must be. About her wind strewn under her hat, her cheesy joke...

Heart feeling like it could burst from her chest at any moment, Betty smiled. Offering her hand, she slid it across the table, palm up. Jughead’s hand found her’s, lacing their fingers together.

“Thank you.” 

  
  
_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story continues, don't worry! Some more fluff and cuteness next chapter. Also, you'll notice the rating went up. ;)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I love you guys and I want to badly to update faster this next time. <3

 

_(Sunday Feb. 11th)_

_._

_._

_._

Despite the fact that Jughead and Betty lived in the same building, they hadn’t felt the need to start spending all their time at home together. Something of which, Betty was grateful for. There was something to be said about not spending every waking moment with your significant other, and she was glad they were on the same wavelength.

Their schedules were different enough that they had time to themselves while the other was working.

Jughead worked when the sunlight was best if he wasn’t shooting in the small studio he had — and also did a variety of sunrise, sunset, and night-time shoots. Then, he would go days were he spent his work day at home editing photos and fulfilling print orders.

Betty worked mostly from nine to five with her editing work; whether she was meeting clients, doing promotion, or actually editing a piece. She worked on her blog afterwards — compiling posts and utilizing photos she had taken of her meals during the day. Then cooking or heating something up for dinner that she could make a post about as well.

It was definitely easier to coordinate spending time together since they lived right across the hall from one another. They need only text to see if the other was home and then usually Jughead would come knocking on her door. They spent their evenings together quite often; watching Netflix while eating whatever Betty would whip up for dinner.

Jughead kept complaining that she was trying to fatten him up and Betty would just pinch his cheek affectionately. He would grumble under his breath about going to the gym with Archie in order to keep his quote, unquote “lanky physique". Even though Betty knew he had muscle beyond lanky; she had seen it that day his shower broke, and _felt_ it when his arms curled around and held her protectively.

She loved cuddling up next to Jughead on the couch, her head to his chest where she could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat as his fingers ran through her hair. They always settled on something obscure on Netflix, even though a lot of the time Betty would fall asleep towards the end. When Jughead would wake her and force her to actually go to bed, he would recount the ending in her ear like a bedtime story. She already loved falling asleep to his voice.

It was hard to believe it had been less than two weeks since their first real date.

To be very, very cliché, Betty had felt like she had known Jughead for much longer and already felt a sense of easy comfort between them. It reminded her of the calming, humid air after a big summer rainstorm, the air still feeling charged with static.

The way he touched her was always such a pleasant shock to her nerve endings; often finding herself with a shiver tracking down her spine and goosebumps erupting on her skin in the wake of his path — the slow glide of his hand up and down her bicep while he held her, the flutter of his fingers against her waist, when he slung an arm around her and pulled her close, the press of his fingers against her hips to bring her in for a kiss, or his fingers gently grasping her jaw and tilting her head back.

Everytime Jughead put his hands on her skin she wanted more.

There was still a tremble in her hands when she thought about taking things further. A twist in her gut that had her feeling conflicted. She hoped it would ease soon, but fear was always a difficult thing to overcome.

Betty was working on it though, actively and with reverence.

Lying awake at night and wondering what Jughead was doing was sometimes overwhelming in its simplicity. Last night had been no exception — the very real ache in her chest made her eyes sting with the bite of unshed tears. She felt like a _baby_.

It warranted another late night phone call to Polly, who seemed more than happy to oblige. Her sister’s most interesting declaration of the conversation being that in order to get over Toni, Betty needed to get _under_ Jughead.

That had sent Betty’s eyes rolling into the back of her head, a soft groan that had turned into giggles making her feel much lighter.

With a promise to ask Jughead to accompany her to dinner at Polly’s house next weekend, Betty was finally able to fall asleep after they ended their conversation. She slept well into the morning, decidedly turning off her alarms the night before.

The sun that was shining between the opening in her curtains was incandescent as it stretched across the bed and enveloped her in a cocoon of light. She stretched her arms above her head, yawning and blinking owlishly before collapsing back into the warmth of her sheets. Wanting nothing more than to just curl up and sleep some more, Betty pulled herself away, reluctantly, and slid into her slippers and robe.

After tidying up her apartment and putting her kettle on to boil, she sorted through her tea basket. She traced the labels on each tin with her index finger, an unrecognizable hum on the tip of her tongue. She finally decided on a red berry rooibos, fixing up her tea infuser in her mug.

Curling up on the couch with her freshly brewed tea, she sipped on it gingerly, as she thumbed through a cooking magazine.

Glancing up at the clock, Betty noted the time as she glanced first to her door and then to her phone where she had set it on the coffee table. Jughead was coming over for a cooking lesson today — although, she was about 95% sure that it would simply be her cooking with him watching and/or trying to distract her. It made her smile fondly into her tea.

A few more minutes passed and she had written down the apple pie recipe in the magazine she’d been looking at, for today. Floating into her room, Betty changed into jeans and well worn jade green t-shirt. Just as she was tying her hair up into a ponytail, there was a knock at her door.

Her heart always seemed to jump into her throat, no matter if she was expecting company or not. Taking a calming breath, Betty tightened her ponytail and slid back into her slippers to answer the door.

“Good morning,” Jughead said, voice gravelly and soft all at the same time. Betty’s lips twitched at how sleepy he still looked. Hat clutched in his hand, hair a bedraggled mess, and sticking up in every which direction.

“Good _afternoon_ , Jughead,” she teased lightly, despite the fact that she hadn’t been up for much longer.

He grunted, sliding past her as she opened the door wider and then closed it behind him. “Betty,” he grumbled, tossing his hat over to the couch and then collapsing on it in a heavy plop.

“Yes?”

“Need coffee.”

Rolling her eyes, she walked back to the kitchen to ready a cup in her french press for him. “Did you stay up late?”

Turning the heat back on under the kettle, Betty scooped some coffee grounds into the press and then searched for a mug.

“Yeah. Worked late doing some editing for a client that decided they needed the photos sooner than they initially thought.”

Bobbing her head, Betty glanced over to the couch before selecting a mug with some cat whiskers on it. “Oh, well in that case, you could have slept longer. I wouldn’t have minded.”

“I know, that’s ‘cause you’re a good person Betty. Me, on the other hand…” her eyebrows raised as she poured the hot water over the coffee grounds to steep. “I’m selfish. I couldn’t wait to see you even though I might be grumpy.”

She couldn’t help but smile at Jughead’s words. Leaving the french press, she leant over the back of the couch, watching Jughead with his closed eyes. Dipping a hand down, she threaded it through his hair and he leaned into her touch, an eye peeking open to look up at her before closing again. “Feels good,” he mumbled quietly.

Fingers worked through his hair, tugging softly. “Some coffee will fix you right up. But if you’d like we could take a nap?” she offered, feeling like she herself could go back to sleep.

Watching as Jughead opened his eyes, blue staring up at her with what seemed like hesitation, she tilted her head. “The coffee can be warmed up and you can drink it while we’re cooking. Go get in my bed.”

Giving another tug to his hair, Betty gave him a little boop on the nose before heading back to the kitchen. She used the press to pour the coffee in the mug she’d chosen and then placed a saucer on top of it to keep it covered. After placing it in the fridge, Betty closed the door to find Jughead standing just to her right.

She tilted her head, watching as Jughead fiddled with the ring on his middle finger. He jerked his head toward her bedroom, eyes sweeping up from the floor to find hers. “You’re coming too, right?” he asked in a small, quiet voice that made her heart ache.

Betty knew he had trouble sleeping a lot of the time, which was why she had offered the nap. Their cooking lesson could wait a little.

“Oh, of course. I was just finishing cleaning up.”

His hand reached out for her, and Betty slipped her fingers between his and followed behind him. Despite this being an innocent thing, her heart was pounding in her chest.

Jughead pulled the quilt down and slid in between the sheets, scooting to the middle of the bed. He left out a deep sigh, stretching his arms to each side of her bed. “ _Oh_. Now I know why you sleep so well. Your bed is comfy."

Rolling her eyes, Betty climbed in next to him after kicking her slippers off. “You wouldn’t even know if your bed was comfy. You fall asleep on your couch all the time.”

“Touché.”

Laying on her side, she folded her legs, absently thinking she should have slipped her jeans off. Jughead was still wearing his flannel pajama pants and he was probably much more comfortable. But Betty’s thoughts faded as his arm curled behind her shoulder, pulling her in, and tucking her against his side.

To be ensconced in his arms, his warmth, and solidness of his presence against and around her felt inexplicably _good_. Like the sun on her face earlier — but it went beyond skin deep.

With a small sigh, she brought her arm up to sweep across the threadbare shirt Jughead always seemed to sleep in. Her fingers settling up at his chest, just below his heart. Betty’s eyes closed as his fingers danced across the skin of her arm in gentle sweeping motions.

.

.

.

.

Later, Jughead was the one to wake her. Betty blushed when he pointed out the spot of drool she’d made on his shirt. She seriously entertained the idea of whacking him over the head for a full three seconds before he pinned her to the bed, kissing her breathless.

When they finally made it to the kitchen, Jughead was all revived and anew with energy from their two hour power nap.

Wiping the sleep from her eyes, Betty pulled a bag of flour down from the cabinet as Jughead warmed up his coffee from earlier.

“Hey, so that _is_ coming in handy,” Jughead said, eyeing the bag with a coy grin.

Her lip twitched as she remembered his silly but quite endearing line. “Guess what we’re going to make with it."

An eyebrow raised at her as Jughead leaned against the counter. “I’m not good at guessing games, remember?”

With a roll of her eyes, Betty reached up to the cabinet for her set of wet and dry measuring cups. “That was one time, Jug. I think maybe you’re just a sore loser…” she trailed off, suddenly feeling Jughead pressed up against her back.

His breath was hot in her ear, his hands came to grip her sides, and she felt like he was encircling her whole rib cage and surely he could feel the slam of her heart against it.

“I’m still mad I didn’t get to kiss you that night,” Jughead said quietly and it made her brain a little dizzy with the way his voice had dropped. And then, he was pulling his hands from her and reaching up over head to grab the items she was still blindly reaching for.  

“Let’s get cooking babe, I’m ready to learn the culinary arts.”

Then he was gone.

Betty looked over her shoulder at him and blinked before immediately dropping her arms back down. The microwave beeped and she almost reached for the container of sugar before chidding herself; he was a dark and bitter coffee drinker to her sweet and creamy. She felt the burn in her cheeks start to fade and turned away from Jughead’s smirk that was poorly concealed behind his coffee cup to fiddle with the items he’d set in front of her.

Clearing her throat, she spoke, “Right, well, uh — we’re making noodles. Chicken and noodles,” she said, pulling her rolling pin out from the drawer.

“From scratch?” Jughead questioned and she gave a curt nod, sweeping an arm towards the flour as she went to pull some things from the fridge.

“Yep, homemade. Like momma used to make,” Betty said, grabbing the carton of eggs, and the chicken that had been thawing in a pan.

“Oh. I’ve never had homemade chicken noodles.”

Fumbling with the precarious load in her arms, Betty looked to Jughead and could feel the frown between her brows as she stopped mid-walk.

“ _What_?”

Jughead shuffled a little, crossing his arms again but his shoulders slumped forward this time. His eyes flickered to the ground and he shrugged a shoulder lazily at her.

“No one to make them for me. My dad certainly wasn’t going to.”

So far, Jughead hadn’t touched much on his family or past so this was all new to her. And she could feel the wind being sucked from her lungs as tears threatened to well up in her eyes.

“Your mom…” she let the question fall from her tongue and Jughead’s curt nod was like a stab to her heart.

“Yeah, when I was seven. Cancer is a bitch.”

Betty found her legs again in order to place the pot with the chicken on the stove, even though it’s weight was nothing compared to the lead the her heart felt full of.

“I’m so sorry, Jughead. That’s terrible. I can’t even imagine — like, I just — I don’t even _know_ what to say,” Betty spoke quietly, placing the eggs on the counter and moving to cup Jughead’s cheeks in her hands. She tilted his head up from where his gaze was boring a hole into her tiled floor, his blue eyes were glassy and she could feel the tension in his jaw.

“I know. It fucking sucks,” his voice a voice gravelly as Betty smoothed her thumbs under his eyes carefully. She put on a small smile, as big as she could managed right now. Her heart broke for the image of Jughead as a little boy wondering why his mom was never coming to back to him.

She placed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth and patted his chest. “Well, it’s a good thing that chicken noodles are a comfort food, huh?”

He smiled a little at that. “Anything is a comfort food to me, Betty.”

Pinching his cheek then, she clicked her tongue at him. “Come on now, let’s get to work. We can reminisce over our traumas some over time.”

“Maybe over dessert?”

Betty turned to him and squinted at him. “Are you fishing for that already?”

“Yes?” he grinned at her.

“Well, it also involves flour and there is a big bag of apples sitting next to you on the counter so just think on that a little while.”

He rubbed his chin wistfully and Betty eyed the long lines of his fingers before turning back to the sink to wash her hands and set the chicken to boil.

“Might want to take your ring off. It’s bound to get messy.”

“Yeah? I like messy,” Jughead said rather casually, but dropped his ring onto the sink up by the soap. Her throat burned to ask about it, but she bit her tongue and watched him soap up instead, while she turned the heat on under the chicken.

Though she had gotten thoroughly distracted from her task by his hands and the water and his forearms and — luckily for her, it wouldn’t be too noticeable that she’d shaken too much salt into the pot.

Once she’d thrown in some pepper, poultry seasoning and dash of red pepper flakes, Betty turned back to where she had set her other things. While waiting for the chicken to boil, she pulled out a bowl to mix the noodle dough in.

“Okay, so we’ve got our chicken on to boil,” she said, thumb jutting over towards the stove.

“Check.”

“And we’ve got everything we need for the noodles: just flour and eggs —”

“Check.”

“Now, we start on those so they can dry while we debone the chicken —”

“Check.”

Betty pursed her lips. “Jughead, what are doing?”

“Check,” he said, with a nodding motion.

“You’re… you’re not even listening to me are you?”

“Check,” he said with a smirk and Betty wasn’t sure whether to smack him or laugh or both.

“Kidding, I’m kidding,” he said, holding his arms up in surrender. “It’s just fun to get under your skin. I’m listening.”

Blowing a strand of hair from her face, Betty tucked it behind her ear. “Good, as I was saying —”

They worked surprisingly well together, when Jughead stayed focused. Watching with rapt attention as she made a well in the flour for the eggs to be cracked into.

Listening when she told him to add more flour to their mix as she kneaded, his intense gaze locked on her hands when she explained the need for the dough to just be combined and not quite sticky anymore.

Then when Betty asked him to flour the counter, he was like a kid in a candy store. Dipping his hands in the bag and smearing it across the surface. Of course, Jughead couldn’t resist the urge to place a big white handprint on her face. But he swallowed her screech with a kiss that was anything but childish.

Then her hands where over his, showing him what to do with the rolling pin. After checking on the chicken, Betty watched him work diligently.

Sneaking her hand into the bag of flour, she patted him on the back casually. “Doing good, Juggie. We can start cutting them now.”

She offered him a pizza cutter after wiping her hand on the back of her jeans.

“Just cut them into thin strips. I’m sure you’re familiar with noodle shapes,” she said, leaning against the counter with a cheeky smile.  She eyed the white handprint on Jughead’s back; stark against the dark grey t-shirt.

“Mhm,” he nodded his head in affirmation and started cutting.

Betty watched for a moment before she turned the heat off on the chicken and lifted it out onto a plate to cool a bit.

They finished with the noodles and worked to debone the chicken — Betty had to slap Jughead’s hands away from eating bits that still had a pink tinge to them.

They chopped carrots and celery together, with Jughead saying he was going to accidently cut his finger off in order to try and get out of it. He relented under her promise of vanilla ice-cream with their dessert.

Once everything was back in the pot except for the noodles, Betty had them get to work on said dessert.

Jughead’s face had lit up at the words apple pie and he kissed her soundly on the mouth. With a smile, she pushed him away and they got started on their separate tasks. She set Jughead to work on peeling and coring apples while she set up her mixer with the ingredients for the crust.

She explained to Jughead that it was different from noodle dough in that it had butter, salt and a bit of sugar, as well as ice water. He would stop and listen as she worked through each step, peering over her shoulder into the mixer.

His breath on her neck was very distracting.

When he would go back to apples, Betty always found herself hot and starting to sweat. She thought about cracking the window in the living room to let some cool air in but ultimately decided it was just her — or rather Jughead, making her feel that way.

Betty separated the dough and rolled them out into two disks and into the fridge they went, to chill. She instructed Jughead in the filling; tossing the apples into a mixture of brown sugar, cinnamon, salt, flour, and lemon juice.

They plopped the noodles into their simmering pot of chicken, veggies and broth — Betty had to pull Jughead away from the enticing smell and sit him down with a glass of milk to curb his hunger.

He watched from the kitchen table as she finished up the pie, brushing the top with egg wash after cutting slits into it. She slid it into the oven and brushed her hands off, setting the timer.

“When are the noodles going to be ready?”

Taking a peek in the pot, she gave them a stir. “Maybe 15 more minutes.”

“That’s so _long_ ,” he sighed.

Betty tutted, covering the noodles back up with the lid. “Well, we could do something to pass the time?”

At this, Jughead perked up. “Oh? What do you have in mind?”

Walking over to where he was seated, Betty rested her hands on his shoulders. She was captivated by the vivid blue hue of his eyes, dark but so crystal clear. She never quite found her voice, but Jughead seemed to know what she was trying to say.

He placed one hand on her hip, fingers sliding underneath the hem of her shirt. Her skin was sensitive there, a shudder racing down her spine that had her arching her back and leaning into Jughead’s hand. “Betty,” he breathed, and her eyes dropped down to his lips.

Jughead licked his lower lip, blue eyes dropping from hers, _down down down_. A rosey flush that made her skin sizzle under his gaze, extended to where his eyes had landed as he curled a finger around one of her belt loops. He pulled on it, tugging her closer to him; her hands settling in the middle of his chest as she stepped between his legs.

“Just say the word,” Jughead was looking up at her in a way that made her feel like shedding her skin, but in a pleasant way.

There was something about looking down at him, his face so passive yet full of emotion dancing behind his eyes. Betty could see it in the tick of his jaw, the dimple by his mouth, the slight lift in his brows. The way his eyes flickered back up to her lips, lingering.

“Please,” she whispered ardently.

His hand disentangled from the loop of her jeans to curl around the back of her neck and pull her down towards him. Their noses brushed together as their breath mingled. She felt her eyes flutter closed as she tilted her head forward. Their lips met, firm and strong, and Betty sighed into his mouth as she clutched fistfuls of his shirt.

She would never grow tired of kissing Jughead.

His hands were moving up and down her sides now, eliciting tingles up her spine reminiscent of the aftershock of an earthquake. The past, present, and future were but little thought in her mind; drowning in the warm salt sea around her. Betty felt like she was floating; truly, she did.

The press of Jughead's fingers at her hips had her biting down on his lower lip, tugging him forward by his shirt as she tried to move impossibly closer between his legs. Betty had half a mind to just hop into his lap — quite certain that he wouldn’t mind.

But then there was a gentle, low rumbling against her body and it filtered in through her ears. Pulling her mouth from the chase of Jughead’s, she brought a finger up to press against his lips.

“Was that your stomach?”

With a sheepish smile against her finger, Jughead answered with a “Maybe?”

Betty couldn’t help but laugh, looping her arms around Jughead’s neck and pulling him to fit against her body. He buried his into the space between her collarbone and neck as his arms wound around her waist. Her fingers laced through his dark hair, running against the silky strands with a pain of envy.

“Alright, feeding time then. Can’t let you starve now, can I?” she said, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

“But I was just about to —”

Betty swallowed his protests of _something more_ with a kiss, as she tipped his head back, fingers hooking under his jaw. Jughead’s arms squeezed her as he leaned back. They traded a few more kisses before Betty pulled away.

“Aren’t you curious to see how the noodles turned out?” she murmured against his hips.

His grin told her his thoughts were not about food in any sort of way. “I’m curious as to how _you_ taste. Here…” he trailed off, pressing a kiss to her collarbone that had her tilting her head and eyelids drooping.

Jughead’s fingers came up to the collar of her shirt, stretching it down at her chest to dip his tongue into the line between her breasts. “Here…” he whispered, while his other hand was inching in from her hip to slide over her belly, fingers dipping under the waistband of her jeans in a way that made her breath hitch in her throat. “And here,” Betty’s eyes popped open wide and stared down at Jughead with a quiver to her lower lip.

“O—oh. _Oh_ ,” she was sure there was something else she should say, like _yes_ or _please_ , but her brain felt a little too much like mush for anything else.

“But, I think maybe I’ll save room for dessert.”

Then Jughead was unwinding from her, pushing her gently so he could stand in front of her. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, his lips like a hot brand against her already searing skin. A promise that she wasn’t sure the implication of.

Betty was utterly verklempt.  

She simply watched as Jughead dished their noodles into bowls, dropping spoons in and bringing them to the table where she was still standing. He scrunched his nose a little, somewhere between holding back a laugh and a sly grin.

It would have been fun to wipe that off his face — but then he was gently pushing her to sit in the chair in front of the bowl. Then all she thought of was _home._

There was nothing better than homemade chicken noodles. Grandma Cooper had taught her the recipe a long time ago, over cutting and hanging noodles to dry in her yellow wallpapered kitchen, speckled with butterflies.

As Betty looked across the table to Jughead, she watched the easy smile on his face. She hoped she could impart some feeling of comfort with a new memory.

That was one of the best things about food, she found. The positive or sometimes negative connotations that could be associated between memories and food.

A warm chocolate chip cookie and a glass of milk while snuggling with grandma. Sipping sun-brewed iced tea on porch during summer storms. Eating fresh spun cotton candy at the fair while laughing with friends.

After Jughead took a bite, she followed suite. Warm, rich, and savory. The carrots still had a firmness to them that she liked. She couldn’t help the hum of appreciation that resonated through her chest.

“A-plus, Juggie.”

His smile was one for the books. Easy and unguarded as he slurped up a noodle. “Pretty good if I do say so myself.”

They made comfortable conversation and discussed the very important differences between vanilla, french vanilla, and vanilla bean ice-cream. The oven timer ticking just as they hit a lull.

The pie was golden and bubbling just underneath the top layer of crust. It smelled heavenly and earthly in the same breadth, steam rising from it as Betty set it on a cooling rack. Jughead was eyeing it from his spot at the sink, rinsing their dishes.

“It’s gotta cool first,” she said idly. “Unless you’d like to burn your tongue, the roof of your mouth, and your tastebuds.”

“How do you always talk me out of doing stupid things?”

“It’s a gift?” Betty countered, raising her shoulders questioningly. She then moved the pot of noodles to the back of the stove and flicked the heat off.

They cleaned the kitchen up of their mess and Jughead shuffled off to her bathroom while she wiped the counters down.

She heard an indignant growl of her name from the direction of her bedroom and her eyes widened. Dread bloomed in the pit of her stomach. Dropping the rag, Betty briskly moved to the bedroom and was about to knock on the bathroom door when it swung open.

Jughead had pulled off his shirt and he was holding it up for her to see the back — where she had planted a small white handprint over the shoulder.

Of course, the bare skin of his chest and stomach was a little more distracting that Jughead’s endearingly bemused expression. Betty covered her mouth loosely with one hand, grin peeking through her fingers.

The shirt floated to the floor, her eyes following it before darting back up.

“Now my shirt’s all dirty,” Jughead said dramatically, stalking towards her now. “And it’s all. Your. Fault.”

Betty’s knees hit the back of her bed and suddenly she was gulping at the predatory gleam in his eyes. Her belly tightened in excitement just as his fingers reached out and pulled her hand from her mouth. Jughead caught her other wrist in his hand as well and then she was flat on the bed. Hands above her head, her eyes on the seemingly flowered patterns of the stomp ceiling.

The blood was rushing to her ears now, the drum of her heart steadily turning to a loud booming that she could distinctly feel in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut as Jughead held her wrists loosely above her head. He had worked himself between her legs and was hovering over her, nose running along the line of her jaw.  

“What am I going to do with you?” his voice was right at her ear then, and Betty couldn’t help but groan.

“Whatever you want.”

.

.

.

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr! [lilibug--xx](https://lilibug--xx.tumblr.com)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes. You might want to re-read some previous chapters, at least the last one. This took forever and a day, but here it is! The chapter that earns this fic a mature rating. Sex fixes everything right? So please still love me. 
> 
> I hope to finish this in about two more chapters, honestly. The wait will not be as long next time, I promise. 
> 
> Beta'd by my loves, [theheavycrown](https://theheavycrown.tumblr.com) and [opportunistichag](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpportunisticHag/pseuds/OpportunisticHag) who do such a wonderful job. It's a miracle actually. Who wants to ever read my stuff unbeta'd ever again? Certainly not I.

 

There were a million thoughts that ran through Betty’s mind during the time she spent memorizing each and every line and freckle on Jughead’s face.

Like the smell of flour and yeast, enunciated by the dry press of his fingers around her wrists that he held in his grasp.

The pleasant weight of his body atop hers, comforting and enticing.

His eyes — bright blue that had darkened from widened pupils, combed her face and lingered on her lips.

She released her bottom lip from between her teeth and he followed the movement with slightly flared nostrils.

Jughead’s breath washed over her face as he exhaled. He smelled like the apple pie they’d eaten not so long ago, sweet and tart.

“Betty.”

He said her name like it was the best thing in the world, his tone husky and dry.

It made Betty lick her lips.

“Juggie,” she whispered back, voice wavering as he used his knee to wedge her legs further apart.

Leaning down over her, he ran his nose along the curve of her jaw. “I know you said I could do whatever I want… but I only want one thing.”

Barely-there kisses trailed down her throat and it took all her willpower not to make some sort of pathetic whimpering sound. Instead, she opted for straining her arms in his grasp, squirming underneath him.

“What’s that?” Betty asked coyly, surprising herself.

Jughead hummed against the base of her throat and his tongue darted out to lap at the hollow between her collarbones. “I want you.”

A shudder traveled down her spine as he shifted against her, realizing that the heat between her legs was threatening to burn her up already.

“All of you,” Jughead added with a trail of steady kisses down the line of her chest. His released her wrists, seeking out the hem of her t-shirt.

Betty’s head swam with the way he said the words, like he meant them with every fiber of his being. It made her ache in multiple places, the most prominent being in her belly, which felt cinched so tight that she had to keep squirming.

Leaving her hands above her head, she stretched her arms and arched her back as his fingers slid under her shirt and up the curve of her abdomen.

His palm was warm, large, and a little bit rough. The press of his fingertips drummed along the juts of her ribs and gripped at her hip.

Betty heaved a breathy sigh, tilting her head to the side as Jughead nipped at her neck. His teeth grazed her skin again and again. She felt heat lick up her arms then down her spine and it left her nerve endings feeling all sorts of tingly.

His fingers inched further up until he spread his palm between her breasts, under the band of her bra. He rested his weight on his elbow, tucking his chin in toward her shoulder to nose against her.

He was waiting.

Fluttering her eyes open, Betty stared at the ceiling, reminiscent of earlier that morning. She swallowed the lump in her throat, the little ball of anxiety that held her back from doing the things she wanted most.

She decided that she wanted to be able to look back on this moment and experience this feeling forever.

It occurred to her that she had never felt this wanted in her life and instead of feeling sad, she smiled.

Her hands came down to cup Jughead’s face and she raised her head to press a kiss on his lips.

“I want nothing more than to give myself to you,” she murmured against him, wondering if he could feel the quickened beats of her heart under his palm.

Fingers gripped at her hip, tugging at the waistband of her jeans before hooking underneath.

Betty pulled her knee up and tucked her ankle around the back of his thigh, bringing them closer together. “Please,” she whispered when he didn’t say anything. Her hands slid to his shoulders, digging into his bare skin like she couldn’t get enough.

His boyish smile filled her heart with the same warmth she associated with sunshine.

“Well, I’m not above you begging. I just want you to have time to think.” Jughead spread his fingers against her chest before withdrawing to tug the shirt up above her breasts. “I’m going to take my time with you, after all.”

He ducked his head and licked a line up the center of her breasts, hand cupping over her bra.

His teeth grazed her through the fabric and she drew him in closer with her leg. Her eyelashes fluttered as he tugged down the cup of her bra to mouth at her breast. “That kind of sounds like torture.”

“The _best_ kind of torture. You’ll see.” Jughead palmed her breast, kneading as his thumb rubbed at her relentlessly..

Betty’s head knocked backward when his lips closed around her nipple, tongue laving and flicking until it hardened to a stiff peak under his tongue. “Juggie,” she whined, squirming and canting her hips as her veins thrummed with heat.  

“Hmm.” He hummed around her, glancing up through eyelashes that she swore were longer than her own.

His eyes were both dark and bright, fixated on her in a way that had her chewing on her lip. She exhaled deeply through her nose, stomach quivering as he switched his attention from one breast to the other and started to reach for the button of her jeans.

Jughead nosed the remaining cup of her bra down and gave that breast the same treatment.

The zipper of her jeans dragged slowly down and her hands clutched at his shoulders. Her thoughts swam like the raging current of Sweetwater River, fast and hard.

She was both nervous and excited when he leaned up from her breasts to kneel between her knees. Her hands fell from his arms to curl beneath her back and she twisted to unclip her bra.

When she dragged the straps down her arms and tossed the garment over the edge of the bed, Jughead drank her in.

He slid his hands up her hips and fit them against the curve of her waist, fingers squeezing appreciatively. His thumbs brushed the swell of her breasts and he licked his lip. “You’re beautiful, Betts.”

Resisting the urge to cover herself with her hands, she felt heat race to her cheeks and she dropped her leg back flat to the bed. “Thanks,” she mumbled, averting her eyes as she struggled to figure out what to do with her arms.

“Scoot backwards,” Jughead instructed, tapping her thigh.

Raising up onto her elbows, Betty did as he asked. Her legs slid through his as he stepped off the bed, and she settled her head on the pillow once she was in place. Her socked feet rubbed together and she almost laughed — until he reached for the drawstring of his flannel pajama bottoms.

Instead, she sucked a breath in and chewed on her lower lip.

They were in various states of undress, but the ratio reduced when his fingers worked the string and he pushed the bottoms over his hips.

He was wearing dark navy boxer briefs that hugged his thighs in the way she would have liked to wrap her legs around him, tight.

Jughead chuckled and lifted a knee back up to the bed after pulling off his socks — which she faintly noticed, as they floated to the floor, had little hamburgers on them.

“You’ll have plenty of opportunity to wrap your legs around me.” His hands reached for the waist of her jeans to drag them down her legs.

Wait, had she say that _out loud_?

Scrubbing over her face, Betty groaned and lifted her hips for him. The denim slid down her legs and though it was a relief, she wished she’d worn cuter underwear.

His hands were at her ankles, lips pressing a kiss to the inside of her knee. “Around my hips or my head,” he murmured. “I’d take either one.”

The jolt that ran up her spine had her eyes prying open. Looking down at Jughead, she watched as he pulled her socks off one at a time and it did little to quell the fire singing in her blood.

Betty’s throat got all kinds of dry when he crawled up between her legs. “Both? Both sound good,” she found herself squeaking out.

She drew  her knees up so that her feet were flat on the bed, and his hands pushed her legs wider so he could settle between her thighs.

“I aim to please, baby.” Jughead smirked, fingers moving from her knees up along her thighs.

The glide of his hands felt wonderful against her skin, all warm and strangely possessive as he gripped at her hips. His fingertips slipped under the thin waist of her black underwear and Betty tilted her hips up to press against him.

Jughead groaned and she bit her lip, hands flying up to curl around his forearms as he bent over her.

She felt the heave of his chest and the flutter of his heart as he rested his weight atop her. The press of his pelvis as he rutted against her revealed just how aroused he was and her confidence swelled.

“Jug,” she breathed, hands sliding up his arms and back down again as she arched her back. “I want you to put your mouth on me.”

The flush on Betty’s face had reached the top of her chest, and Jughead bent his head down to nuzzle her. “Where?”

Huffing a little, she dug her fingernails into his biceps. “ _Jug_.”

“I can’t read your mind, Betts,” he taunted, clicking his tongue with a smirk.

She pinched his side with two fingers and he twisted away from her with a grunt. “Smartass.”

“ _Your_ smartass.”

Her heart soared to impossible heights. She pulled him back to her chest, latching one hand onto his jaw to pull him down for a kiss.

Jughead gave a short, gravelly moan into her mouth when she canted her hips up against him.

She swallowed the sound greedily, eager for more. The push and pull of their lips got her panting, the steady increase in intensity similar to the racing of her heart. It was addicting, the way he felt against her, and she wanted nothing more than to lay like this with him for the rest of her days.

When Betty pulled away to lean their foreheads together, she let her hand slide from his jaw. Her thumb caught on his lower lip, dragging it down, and he snapped his teeth after her.

“I want…” she whispered, eyes fluttering open to watch Jughead’s dark pupils fixate on her. She chewed her lip and then pressed her hips up against his own. “Your mouth on my pussy.”

The sound he made sent heat flooding south between her thighs. She rocked against him in earnest, desperate for friction to ease the ache.  

“Fuck yes,” he groaned into her neck, lips finding the pulse of her throat. His fingers squeezed at her hips and he tugged at the band of her underwear, working himself down her body, kissing and licking his way down her neck and chest.

There was a staggered line of red marks that his teeth made along the way that she knew would linger and the thought thrilled her.

Scooting backwards on his knees, Jughead lowered his body to the bed. He rested his cheek on her belly, fingers walking up and down her sides as he nuzzled her.

Betty ran a hand through his hair and sighed softly as he kissed around the ring in her pierced belly button. When she’d had enough of his attention on the least favorite part of her body, she pushed at his head to get him to go lower.

“Impatient,” he noted, but he slid further down nonetheless.

His fingers hooked in one side of her underwear and before she could protest, he ripped them down the side.

“Really, Jughead?” she chastised. Despite them not being a particularly cute pair of underwear, she still _liked_ them.

He shrugged one shoulder lazily and pulled the ruined garment down her thigh for her to kick off.

Jughead was lucky she didn't kick _him._

“Well, now that I’m down here I can't wait any longer,” he said while hooking her legs over his shoulders.

There wasn’t enough time for Betty to respond, or even form a coherent thought, because he spread her pussy with his thumbs and closed his lips over her clit.

Her mouth dropped open in a quiet, little gasp as he sucked and laved his tongue at her clit. She fisted her hands in the sheets and grabbed a handful.

It was both the best and worst thing in the world and because she wanted _more._

So, that’s what she said (if a little breathlessly), “More, Juggie.”

Jughead was all too happy to oblige as he murmured an affirmation against her. He pulled back a bit to rub at her clit in a slow circle before dipping down and pressing into her. Hooking his thumb upwards, he flicked his tongue back and forth over her clit.

He didn’t stay there long, but slid the wet pad of his thumb up to rub over her clit, nibbling a bite into the juncture of her thigh and pelvis.

“You’re practically dripping all over my face,” Jughead groaned, nuzzling at the short, neatly trimmed hairs with his nose. “You smell so fucking good too.”

Betty thought about how she hadn’t even showered since last night and how could that even be _possible_ but her thoughts melted to nothingness when he put his mouth back on her pussy.

His tongue dove inside her with short thrusts, warm and wet, sending her back arching upward.

She fisted a hand in his hair and _yanked_ his face closer.

Jughead moaned and the vibration had her thighs trembling.

“Fingers,” Betty choked out. “Use your fingers. Please,” she added for good measure, peeking down at him.

Chewing on her lip, she considered the way his pupils were so large, dark, and focused on her. Her fingers twitched in their hold on his hair and he leaned into her hand a bit.

He hummed, licking his lower lip where it was shiny. “I like it when you talk, so don't bite that lip. I wanna hear you.”

“Ok—” the rest of the word dissolved into a moan as she threw her head back against the bed. She tightened her grip in Jughead’s hair as the two fingers he’d slipped inside her pussy pumped rapidly.

Then, his lips were at her clit and he was licking her up and down. The combination made her chest heave.

The slow build in her gut was so achingly familiar and it already felt like it was going to blow her mind.

Jughead worked her into a writhing mess with the assault of his tongue and fingers. She couldn't help but squeeze her thighs and pull his hair sharply in the directions she needed more pressure.

“Fuck—” Betty stuttered when his fingers curled upwards. “Just a little… higher—” she squeaked, and he didn’t need to be told twice.

His touch had her back arching and her fingers spasming in his hair. “There, oh, _right there_. Don’t stop,” she moaned out, feeling utterly wanton. Her skin burned red from the tips of her ears to her toes with the sound that dropped from her lips.

All the breath rushed from her lungs when he simultaneously worked his fingers against her g-spot and assaulted her clit with his tongue.

An animalistic growl emanated from Jughead’s throat and it sent little micro shocks up her spine that ended up curling in her belly.

Betty realized she’d sunk both of her hands into his hair and was pulling and scratching at his scalp while she rutted against his face. Her hips rocked and snapped and he used the hand curled around her hips to bring her even closer still. She wondered for 0.5 seconds if he could even _breathe_ but then her orgasm slammed into her and her mind went blank.

“God, Jug—” Her heels dug in against the bed, toes curled against Jughead’s sides where they were buried. She tensed all over before the spark in her belly burned white hot and blazed outward to each of her limbs in a pulsing wave.

All she could manage were some high-pitched moans as her head rolled back and forth. Her lips and fingers tingled, tongue like sandpaper from where she was panting.

His cool breath fanned across her clit, highlighting how sensitive she was, and it made her shudder when she finally floated back down to earth. Her fingers tapped against his scalp, shying away from the kitten licks he was still working her with.

He didn’t quite take the hint until Betty dug her heel into his back.

“Fine,” Jughead said reluctantly, nipping at the skin on her thigh before pulling her legs from his shoulders.

Betty opened her eyes and listened to the shuffle while he rearranged them, eyes counting the little flowered patterns in the ceiling while her heartbeat settled.

When he crawled back up her body, she swallowed drily as he rested his weight atop her.

He’d gotten rid of his underwear,

“You—” she stammered suddenly, fingers flying up to Jughead’s biceps. “I — this is really happening? I haven't like, _been_ with anyone in a while.” The words flew out and Betty squeezed her eyes shut when his lips pressed against her collarbone. “So I hope I’m not like terrible. Can you _be_ rusty at sex? Or is that—”

Jughead’s hand came down over her mouth as he breathed slowly into her neck. His nose rubbed against the shell of her ear and her heart began to slow down, if only a little.

He pulled his hand away and leaned up onto his elbow above her.

Every movement felt like a sensory overload, the press of his chest dragging against hers felt electric.

“You,” Jughead started, looking up at her. “—Betty Cooper, are such an enigma.”

Blinking up at him, Betty let her hands amble toward his chest. She traced the line of his sternum with her index finger. “Is that good or bad?”

A quiet breath of laughter tickled her neck, sending her cheek to her shoulder. “Very good. You keep me on my toes.”

“What if I want you on your back?” Betty asked coyly with a surge of confidence.

Jughead groaned a quiet, “Jesus Christ,” into her shoulder.

She grinned, pushing at his chest and lifting her hips against his own. His cock slid against her belly and he groaned again. “Turn over, Jones.”

One of his hands hooked around the back of her thigh, lifting her leg to hook around his. He slid his other arm under her back, palm spreading against her spine before he hugged her to his chest and rolled to the side.

When they settled, Betty sat up and leaned back onto his thighs. “Very smooth. You do that a lot?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Not as often as you’re thinking right now.” Jughead leaned back against her pillow, hands gliding up and down her legs.

There was a tickle at the back of her knee and she swatted at his hands until she chased them up his chest. Threading their fingers together, she raised his arms up above his head.

Leaning down, she peppered kisses all along Jughead’s neck, cheeks, and jaw, purposefully avoiding his mouth. She bent forward at the waist, resting her chest against his, and relished the full body contact between them.

It felt so intimate to be pressed up against him, feeling the thud of his heartbeat echo hers; they were both beating loudly.

She rocked forward, sliding against Jughead’s cock with deliberate slowness.

He groaned in frustration and flexed his fingers within hers, tilting his head to chase her lips. “Betty — please?”

Taking pity on him, she leaned up and captured his lower lip between her teeth. She dragged it out playfully before letting go and pressing her lips against his.

They traded kisses while she rocked her hips against him and soon they were both panting into each other’s mouths.

“Condom?” Jughead mumbled against her lips, hands breaking free of her grasp to grab at her hips.

Betty nodded, nose brushing up and down his as she reluctantly sat back up.

Leaning to the side, she pulled her nightstand drawer open and fished around for the box she’d shoved to the back some time ago.

“Hopefully these aren't expired.” Betty studied the box carefully, although the rhythmic swipe of Jughead’s thumbs over the juts of her hips was making it hard to focus.

“They damn well better not be,” he said with an enthusiastic roll of his hips.

She spotted the date and hummed. “There’s like… less than a month left on these, you think that’s okay? I’m on birth control but you can never be too careful.”

Jughead nodded and slid his hands around to her back, fingers spreading wide as he explored the expanse of her bare back. He pressed the pads of his fingertips all along her spine and her eyes slipped closed, fumbling to open the end of the sealed box.

“You know…”

He trailed off as Betty pulled out the row of foil packets. She tore one off and then shoved the rest back into the box before underhanding it back at the nightstand.

“We don’t want all those going to waste, have to get your money's worth.”

The box bounced off the edge of the drawer when she jerked her arm at the last minute.

His grin was distinctly boyish and she had the urge to shove his face down into the pillow.

“Oh, yeah?” Betty raised an eyebrow as she leaned back and tore the packet open.

“Absolutely. See, we _have_ to have sex multiple times—”

She wrapped her hand around the base of his cock and the words stopped in his throat, dissolving into a groan. His fingers flexed at her hips, digging in roughly as he bucked up into her hand as she pumped up and down.

With a giggle, Betty swiped her thumb across the tip of his cock. “I’ve rendered you speechless, have I?”

He panted a little as she twisted her wrist, stroking him languidly. “You’re just asking for it now.”

Tilting her head, she let go of Jughead only to pinch and roll the condom over his cock. She looked up through her lashes at him when she was finished and bit her lip with purpose. “Maybe I am.”

His hand left her hip only to rear back and slap against the cheek of her ass.

It sent a shock up her spine that had her arching and she clenched her thighs together around his legs. “Fuck,” she gasped.

Jughead whistled with his tongue in his cheek then rubbed his hand over faint redness on her skin. “Why don’t you sit on my cock and I’ll do it again, baby.”

“Oh, god. _Please,_  Jug.” The thought of him being inside her while he _spanked_ her again caused her brain to go a bit fuzzy.

She was dazedly blinking down at him when he pinched her thigh then raised his eyebrows before lowering his eyes.

Betty realized she was grinding on his thigh and felt her cheeks burn.

He tilted her chin up and pressed his thumb in under her jaw to draw her in for a kiss.

Shifting forward, Betty lifted up onto her knees and grabbed at his shoulders. She rolled her hips, Jughead’s cock nudging her slit and sliding easily against her.

Grunting into her mouth, he caused their teeth to clack together as he gripped at her hips to push and pull.

It was wet, slippery, and the absolute best.

She panted into his mouth, then leaned back and buried her head in his neck. When Jughead’s cock slid over her clit, sending her belly quivering, she grabbed a handful of sheets.

“If we keep doing this, it’s gonna be over far sooner than I’d like. Then we’ll have to go again,” he growled, teeth nipping at the shell of her ear.

Betty could only squeeze her eyes shut and shudder as his voice grated on her nerves in the _best_ way — the hair on the back of her arms stood up. “What if that’s exactly what I want?” she murmured, turning her head to bite at his shoulder.

He rubbed a hand over ass, before striking sharply.

Her teeth stayed in his shoulder as she moaned, the sting harsher than the last and even better.

“Get on my cock, Betty.”

Her head swam as the words seemed to travel slowly down her spine to curl low in her belly. She ached for him so badly, wanted him to fill her up and fuck her until she couldn’t see straight.

Jughead’s hands soothed over her hips and lower back before squeezing behind her thighs and lifting her up. “I’ll gladly do all that and more.”

The wires in her brain were frazzled and her thoughts kept becoming words when she didn’t intend it. Though she was coming to realize it was not a bad thing.

Finally, she was able to sit up and balance on her knees. Wrapping one hand around Jughead’s cock, she slipped her fingers over him and rubbed. He sighed under her touch, melting into the mattress.

In one movement, Betty lined him up and sank down on him swiftly.

“Christ—” Jughead groaned, watching her swivel her hips and get comfortable with his cock throbbing inside her.

The ache in her belly abated and she sighed, content. Spreading her hands across his chest, Betty raked her nails up and down. His muscles trembled under her fingers when she shifted and began to lift herself up and down on his cock. It made her toes curl under his thighs and she bit her lip to quiet all the rumblings brewing in her chest.

“Feels so good,” she murmured, dragging a hand up to pull at Jughead’s lower lip with her thumb.

His hands curled into her hips and he helped guide her up and down. His teeth grazed her thumb, nipping at her.

They moved as though there was all the time in the world: slowly. And to them, there was.

To take the time to explore the movements that drive the best sounds from another was an act that was often taken for granted. For most, it was about instant gratification — but Betty could feel with how deeply she still wanted Jughead, even when he was buried to the hilt inside her, that this was more than shallow satisfaction.

She was hyper aware of every muscle that she moved and every point where their bodies were touching. The sounds of their breath and skin coming together, over and over, as she moved her hips under the command of his guiding fingers were driving her wild.

A grumble rumbled from Jughead’s chest when Betty kept herself seated on his cock and grinded herself forward. She bit her lower lip as his pelvic bone hit her clit, pussy clenching around him in tight spasms.

He kneaded at her hips, hands sliding to her ass, and her heart skipped a beat in anticipation.

“Say it,” he murmured, looking up at her with impossibly dark eyes. He looked drunk on her, eyes roaming the swell of her bitten lips and the heave of her breasts as she sucked in a breath.

Betty released her lip and planted her hands on Jughead’s stomach, leaning forward. “Please spank me,” she breathed.

He responded without warning with an immediate slap to her ass, that had her back arching and her eyes fluttering closed. It jolted her forward just enough to apply pressure to her clit and she moaned. “More.”

“You like that, huh? My cock buried in your pussy and my hand on your ass.”

Jughead’s voice was low and gravelly, and she thought she might be addicted to sound.

His hand connected with her skin again and the sting had her mouth falling open. She swore that she got even wetter around him.

“I love it,” Betty gasped, nails digging into the lean muscle of his sides.

He lifted her hips and then thrust up into her, “I love how you look riding my cock, tits bouncing—” He reached up to tweak one of her nipples and she pushed her chest into his hand. “So pretty and pink.” He pinched her nipple and rolled it between his fingers, grinding lazily up into her.

Her head rolled to the side, arms squeezing her breasts together and towards his hand as she almost doubled over from the stimulation as she grinded her clit over him. “Fuck me harder.”

Jughead let go of her nipple, giving it a flick with his fingers that had her mouth dropping open in a low moan. He dug his heels into the mattress for leverage, lifting her up a bit as his hands circled her hips with enough pressure to bruise, then thrust up into her, over and over.

It had her breath catching in her throat and she almost forgot to breathe as his cock hit just the right spot that made her vision start to go black around the edges. “Sh—shit,” she croaked out.

He rocked her hips forward, grinding her against himself as he dropped his hips back to the bed. It was both a relief and the source of an unyielding ache as the slow build of her orgasm waned on the precipice of something unimaginable.

They were both panting and Betty could feel how sweaty the backs of her knees and forehead were as she leaned down to peck Jughead’s lips.

One arm snaked its way up her back, between her shoulder blades, and a hand wrapped around her ponytail before tugging sharply. Her neck craned back and then she was gasping, mouth dropping open as he sat up suddenly, forcing her hands to grab for his shoulders.

It took some repositioning of her knees, as he forced her to lift onto them, to get comfortable.

He had her hair pulled so tightly that it made it hard to breathe at this angle, so she had to focus, and for some reason that made her pussy quiver.

All Betty could see was the ceiling when he dragged his other hand down her belly. She inhaled sharply through her nose as fingers slipped around her clit. His lips were at her throat and she choked out a strangled moan.

“Okay?” he asked softly against the hollow of her jaw, hips and fingers still.

She did her best to nod and sort of bobbed her head, squeaking out a “yes!”

Once she was settled, his hand on her clit started to move again and she sighed softly.

Jughead tugged on her hair and murmured at her throat, “Ride me, Betty,” as he kissed his way down to her collarbone.

It was harder to move this way, but the angle was so much better. She used what leverage she could on his shoulders to lift herself up and down, making sounds that were obscene when he rubbed her clit in quick circles.

“I’m gonna come, Jug,” she grit out, hips steady but slow as she fucked him.

He grinned against her neck, hips lifting to meet her downward slide. “I’m right behind you, baby. Ladies first.”

Her scalp tingled and Betty wasn’t sure if it was from him pulling at the root of her ponytail or the way her orgasm threatened to spill out of every pore.

She was practically vibrating by the time it finally hit, and she didn’t scream Jughead’s name in some cheesy way or make a high-pitched keening sound. Instead, she was silent and still, wondering if her heart had stopped beating or if she’d gone deaf as the world quieted.

When she came, it felt like lighting in her veins, so wonderful that she never really wanted it to stop. She wondered why anyone would ever do drugs when you could get a natural high like this.

She was panting by the end of it, pussy spasming around Jughead’s cock as she grinded against him to ride the last of the wave of pleasure.

When Betty began to shudder, she stopped to catch her breath.

Jughead released the hand in her hair and it took her a moment to stretch out the crick in her neck and bring her head back up. He looked at her with an expression of awe, turning her cheeks a hot, burning crimson.

“You are so beautiful,” he mumbled, almost stumbling over his words as he grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her.

He returned to tender touches and loving strokes of her neck, arms, and back.

Her heart beat faster with each upward thrust of his hips, his cock sliding in and out, making her hum as he groaned into her neck.

Betty dug her fingers into the damp hair at the back of his neck, playing with the little curls, before she grinned to herself. She threaded through the strands until she’d grabbed a good handful and tugged.

She interpreted his undulated shudder and the moan that dropped from his lips, followed by a  “Fuck, _Betty,”_ as encouragement and tugged a little bit harder.

His breath was harsh as she nosed her way to his jaw and sucked on the sharp point below his ear. “Juggie,” she whispered back coyly, wiggling her hips atop him.

Jughead groaned one more time then thrust erratically up into her, once, twice — three times, before he pulled her down hard onto his cock and spilled into the condom with a broken call of her name.

Her grip slacked to gentle threading through his hair as she lay her head against him.

His arms circled around her waist and they stayed pressed together for several minutes, with nothing but their quiet breath between them.

Murmuring along her skin, Jughead brushed his lips inward along the line of her shoulder. “That was…”

The irrational part of her grew nervous as he paused, though the evidence was clear that they had had a good time.

“Fucking amazing.” He grinned into her skin, tongue lapping at the divot above her collarbone.

Her eyes rolled but Betty smiled, swatting the back of head as she pulled back to look at him. “You know, I think we need a shower…” she trailed off, fingers pushing his sweaty hair back from his forehead.

Jughead lifted her up off his lap after grabbing hold of the condom. Despite most of mess being contained, they were both still sticky. “Well, you’re not wrong. A shower could be fun.” He tied the end of the condom off and she scrounged for the empty packet she’d thrown to the side.

“You’ll have to carry me though,” she said idly.

His eyebrow raised, finger drawing a line from her hip up to her ribs. “Why’s that?”

Rising her own brow in response, she looked down at him pointedly. “Well, I did most of the work here. It’s exhausting to be on top.”

He laughed and it had Betty frowning for half a second before he was grappling with her in his lap.  He managed to quickly pin her to the mattress with her hands above her head, body pressing into hers.

It was reminiscent of the position they had started in and the irony was not lost on her.

“It’s cute that you think you did most of the work.” Jughead looked down at her with a smirk and she wanted to wipe it off his face.

“I _did_ ,” Betty said and then thought to herself, _didn't I_?

Her legs felt like a wobbly bowl of Jell-O and even her arms were tired, but maybe she was just out of shape.

The look in his eyes told her that she was very, very wrong and he gathered both of her wrists in one hand.

Betty squirmed when his other hand slid from her knee to her thigh and back down again. His palm was warm and large, and sent goosebumps prickling up her arms.

Her breath picked up in anticipation when Jughead pushed her leg up so that her foot was flat against the bed. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip as his gaze trailed down her body.

Widening her eyes in surprise, she arched her back off the bed. He had began to rub two fingers up and down her slit where she was still wet.

Her tongue felt like cotton when he pumped his fingers inside her and curled, thumb rubbing her clit. All she could do was buck her hips to take more of him in as she panted, “ _Again_?”

Jughead leaned down and brushed his nose along her jaw before kissing the corner of her mouth. “Waste not, want not. There is a whole box to get through, Betts.”

 _Fuck,_ Betty thought as she moaned his name, bringing her leg up to wrap around his hip.

The tired feeling that had started to creep in was overtaken by the the need to scratch her nails down Jughead’s back as she sought to pull him even closer. He was going to be the end of her, in the best way.

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch me out in the wild everblues of tumblr [@jane-hoppers](https://jane-hoppers.tumblr.com)


End file.
